


Eyes Only

by eideann



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Bubble Bath, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Logan/Max UST, M/M, Murder, Secret Identity Fail, Sexual Threat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-12-08 01:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11635770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eideann/pseuds/eideann
Summary: Logan’s initial encounter with an unusually perceptive autistic girl is unsettling though not alarming, but when she eludes an attempted abduction and comes to him for help, Logan may not escape the danger she brings with her.  Will Max find him in time? Set early Season 1.





	1. Chapter 1

Logan waited in line, ignoring the covert looks the people around him were giving him. Why so many people were fascinated by guys in wheelchairs was beyond him. There wasn't anything intrinsically interesting about people on wheels, at least not in his opinion.

Lining up was a necessity. He had Max coming over for dinner, and he'd heard that this market had fresh pork – not an easy commodity to come by in post-Pulse Seattle. Even money couldn't guarantee getting it without someone standing – strike that – waiting in line. Bling had the week off, it was a surprise for Max, and he didn't really have anyone else he felt he could send.

He dug a book out from behind him and started to read. The line was moving slowly, and he didn't feel like sitting there doing nothing.

"Eyes," whispered a voice nearby. Logan turned to look and found a girl of about seven staring at him. "Eyes," she said again. She had brown hair and her eyes seemed to be strangely unfocused even though her gaze was most definitely fixed on him. She pulled a lock of her hair through her fingers repeatedly, and her torso rocked slightly in time to a rhythm all her own.

"What?" Logan said.

"She's not talking to you," said the woman standing with her. There was a similarity in features that identified them as related.

"She's looking at me," Logan observed.

"Eyes," the girl said. "Eyes, eyes, eyes."

"Hush, Molly," the woman said softly to the girl. She gave Logan a pained look. "She's a little not right. Please, ignore her."

Logan shrugged and turned back to his book. A few moments later, he felt a tugging on his sleeve and looked up to find Molly right next to him. "Eyes," she said, but there was no real urgency to her tone. It was making him more than a little uneasy, but he kept a lid on it.

"Molly, don't bother the nice man," the woman said, reclaiming her charge.

"It's all right," Logan said. He glanced at his book, then closed it and tucked it away. "Do you mind if I ask what's wrong with her?"

The woman . . . actually when Logan looked closer he saw that she was more of a girl . . . looked briefly uncertain, and then she shrugged. "She's autistic. I mean, the actual diagnosis has lots of big words in it, but it all boils down to the fact that everything goes in but not much comes out." She stroked Molly's hair, the affectionate gesture belying her distant tone. "My name's Shannon McKinnon. Molly's my baby sister."

"Logan Cale." They shook hands. "So, where does she go to school?" he asked, smiling at Molly.

"She doesn't." Logan looked up at Shannon in surprise. She shrugged, a cynical expression on her young face. Abruptly she reminded him of Max. "Where my family sends kids to school, they don't take autistic children."

"She have a tutor, a governess of some kind?"

"She has me," Shannon said.

Molly pulled a notebook out of the backpack she was wearing. "Eyes," she said. "Eyes, eyes, eyes." Shannon sighed and started to take it away from her, but Molly jerked it back and held it out to him. "Eyes!" Logan took the notebook and opened it up to see three strips of paper that contained pictures of his eyes from the Eyes Only broadcasts. He flipped through, and all the pages of the notebook were covered with pictures of his eyes. He shut it with a snap and stared at Molly. "Eyes," she said.

"Yeah," he said blankly.

Shannon took the notebook from his nerveless hands and put it back into Molly's backpack. "Sorry, my sister is absolutely obsessed with Eyes Only." She snorted. "It's not like she's got anything else to think about."

Logan shook his head. "You know, there are some very good programs out there."

"My father says it doesn't make sense to educate her," Shannon said. "And I don't have either the authority or the money to send her myself."

"Next!" called a voice in front of them, and Logan realized it was his turn to purchase meat. "Here," he said. "This is my card. If you ever get the money and authority, give me a call. I have a friend who runs one of those programs, and the waiting lists can be pretty long. I might be able to pull some strings for you."

Shannon took the card, looking startled. "Thanks," she said.

Logan bought four pork chops and nodded at Shannon and Molly as he rolled back out of the market. Dimly behind him, he thought he heard a voice saying, "Eyes."

* * *

Max sat back from dinner with a happy sigh. "What did you say this was called again?"

"Braciole di Maiale alla Salva," Logan said with a smile.

"Pork chops by any other name," Max replied, picking up their dishes and carrying them to the sink. "How long did you have to wait in line?"

"About two hours," Logan replied with a shrug. He wheeled over to the fridge and pulled out something that looked sinfully chocolaty. "Met a girl today," he added, and Max's fingers slipped on the dishes, causing them to hit the bottom of the sink a little harder than she'd meant. "She took one look at me and instantly knew I was Eyes Only."

Max felt a stab of panic followed by anger. "And you're only mentioning this now?"

"Well, she's seven years old, so she's not much of a threat."

Max blinked at him. "She could tell someone."

"She did. She told everyone in the market, but they didn't understand her."

"What are you telling me, Logan?"

Logan shrugged, giving her a wry look. "She's autistic. She just kept saying the word 'eyes' over and over again. Gave me a start, but nobody else paid any attention. Poor kid."

Max glared at him. "You scared me. Why'd you want to do that?"

"If there had been any danger, I would have warned you," Logan said calmly, and she scowled. He always said things calmly. In deepest anger, he spoke calmly. It sometimes drove her nuts. "Anyway, she's apparently obsessed with me. She had a notebook full of pictures from my broadcasts."

"Pictures?" Max asked. "Pictures of what? All that shows in your broadcast is your –"

"My eyes," Logan finished for her.

"That's disturbing."

"You're telling me," Logan said. "She handed it to me. I guess it was sort of a fan moment. Before the Pulse, she'd probably have asked me for my autograph."

He seemed remarkably full of himself. Max decided not to spoil his fun, but that didn't mean she had to watch. "I gotta bounce," she said. "A girl needs her beauty sleep."

"See you tomorrow night?" Logan asked.

"Got plans with the girls," Max replied. "Catch you later."

Logan sketched a farewell wave as Max headed out. The thought of this autistic child with her book full of Logan's eyes disturbed her on a level she wasn't sure she wanted to examine. Not a thing she could do about it, even if she knew who the kid was, but it worried her a little. She went home and found Kendra out, no doubt with one of her many man toys. Max spent some time cleaning up, then went to bed and dreamed about eyes.

* * *

Logan was focused hard on a hack into the bureau of prisons, following a thread that might lead to Mayor Steckler, when a tug on his sleeve made him nearly jump out of his chair. He turned to find Molly McKinnon right next to him. Automatically, he hit the button that sent the computer to sleep so that it would take passwords and key codes to unlock the data again.

"Molly!" he exclaimed, looking the little girl over. "How'd you get in here?" She looked terrible. There was a cut on her lip, and her pony tail was pulled sideways with hair escaping from it. Her backpack was dirty and torn, but she still had it. She stared at him, her face eerily still.

"Eyes!" she said, and her voice had an urgency it hadn't possessed the day before. In her hands she held the notebook he'd seen and the business card he'd given to her sister.

"Molly, where's Shannon?" he asked, reaching out and touching the card.

"Eyes! Eyes!"

"I know, I'm Eyes. But what happened?" He shook his head. She probably couldn't communicate any other way. She was plucking at his sleeve earnestly, and he couldn't figure out what to do, how to ask her what was wrong in a way that she could answer. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said. He put a hand on her arm. She jerked away, seeming agitated. "Come on, Molly," he said in a soothing voice. "Let's –"

"Eyes!" she said loudly. "Eyes!"

"Right." He wheeled carefully up beside her and tried to figure out how to guide her along without touching her. "Let's go into the bathroom and get you –" He broke off when he saw what waited for them in the doorway to his office. Two men stood there, both dressed in dark jeans and shirts, both carrying pistols with silencers. Logan froze for a second, then he dodged for the phone. One of them lunged forward and struck him on the side of the head with the butt of his pistol. Logan fell across the wheel of his chair, clapping his hand to the site of the blow.

Shrill screams penetrated his head and he struggled upright, grabbing for the pistol he kept behind his back when Bling was out. A hand grabbed that arm and twisted it, and Logan let out an involuntary grunt. "Let her go!" he yelled. Molly was struggling against the other man, fighting like a trapped alley cat. She bit his hand and his grip loosened. She slithered out of her backpack and took off running. Tossing the backpack aside, the man ran after her, and Logan started inching his left arm towards the pistol. The man behind him grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him forward out of the chair. His knees hit first, he saw that rather than feeling it, and then he was facedown on the floor.

Logan pushed himself up, rolling onto his back so that threat wouldn't be behind him. There was blood on his hand, and he touched the spot where the pistol butt had hit him. It wasn't a big cut, but it was bleeding plenty. He hated feeling so helpless, his legs laying there like weights, dragging him back. The man behind him was fiddling with his silencer. "Sorry man, you just . . ." His eyes fell on something beside Logan, and Logan turned to see another notebook on the floor. It had fallen open and his eyes were staring back at him from the pages. Logan looked up at the man with the gun to find him staring at the pictures. He leveled the gun at Logan's chest, then glanced around the room. "Son of a . . ."

"She got away!" his partner said, coming back into the room. "What are you waiting for, waste him and let's go!"

"I don't think so," the first man said, bending down to pick up the notebook, the gun never wavering from Logan's chest.

"What do you mean, you don't think so?"

"I think we got ourselves something a whole lot bigger than that little girl." He reached out and plucked Logan's glasses off his face, tossing them aside.

"Hey!" Logan exclaimed. If there was ever a time for Max to show up unexpectedly, this was it. Or Bling could drop by – though Bling would have a greater chance of getting shot. On the whole, Logan would prefer Max. He clenched his teeth and looked away from the man who seemed to be comparing the pictures in the notebook to his face to find the second guy pointing his gun at him. He looked down at the floor.

"How do you mean, bigger?" asked the second guy.

The first threw the notebook at him. "Look at his eyes." Logan continued to look at the floor, but the first guy grabbed him with one hand in his hair and the other one under his chin. Logan pried at the hands, but he couldn't get free. "Look at his eyes, look at those pictures, and then look at this room. Tell me what you see?"

His partner followed the instructions, and after a moment realization seemed to dawn. "Cash money, that's what I see."

The first guy dropped Logan, who stretched out and snagged his glasses back. "My brother, we are going to have us an auction."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my readers who are waiting on other stories from me, please note that this was written YEARS ago. The last time any significant update was made to the story was at least 5 years ago, and it was written a while before that. I am not suddenly and randomly writing on Dark Angel, I'm just posting something I never got around to posting before.


	2. Chapter 2

The two thugs discussed ways and means to get Logan out of the building unnoticed. Meanwhile, Logan noticed that his phone had been knocked off the desk in the struggle. It lay on the floor about four feet away from where he lay. He started easing himself towards it, hoping they'd just think he was trying to find a more comfortable position, but a foot came down on his left hand. "Hey, man, you already lost your legs, you want me to screw your hands up, too?"

Fear stabbed through him, but Logan tried to keep his face impassive. He looked up at the man whose shoe was placing uncomfortable pressure on his knuckles. "I don't know what you guys want from me, but –"

"You kidding, man?" The man leaned down and smiled at him. "With what we can sell you for, we can retire and live large."

"I don't know who you think I am, but you're mistaken," Logan said calmly.

The other guy was standing over by the computers. "Hey, Deke, do you think we should see if we can get his passwords from him?"

"Naw, I don't want to know any of the crap he's got his hands on," Deke replied, proving himself to be a sensible fellow. "We've got the man, we've got the address, we can send someone for his stuff. Let the buyer figure it out."

Logan's right hand fisted. "If you try to sell me as someone I'm not, it's going to piss your buyer off."

They didn't immediately reply. Deke bent and picked up the phone, tossing it across the room. Logan watched it bounce away, now a good ten or twelve feet off. It might as well be in Argentina for all the good it would do him.

"Jack, help me get him back into his chair," Deke said, removing his foot from Logan's hand.

"Not sure that's the greatest idea, Deke," Jack replied. "I mean, these crips, they can move in their chairs. I've seen some of them fly like the wind."

"And no one's going to notice if we carry him out of the building, are they?" Deke demanded. "Close the doors first if you're so worried."

"What exactly do you plan to do with me?" Logan asked while Jack walked around and slid the doors shut, closing them into a glass and wood bubble.

Deke examined the chair and removed the gun from where Logan had it stashed. "Shut up – hey, what's your name? I can't go around calling you Eyes like that little retard or someone will figure it out."

"My name is Logan," Logan said. "And if you mean Molly, she's confused. She's obsessed with that cable guy, and she –"

"Dude, just shut it," Deke replied. "I'm not stupid. Your eyes, your voice, this set up . . . you the man." He bent down and hoisted Logan up, trying to sit him in the wheelchair, but it kept moving away.

"It helps if you set the brakes, first," Logan said after a few very undignified moments.

"Come on, Jack. Set the damn brakes," Deke said. Logan clenched his jaw. He could probably fight Deke off at this point while the man held him so negligently up against his body, but even if he managed it, they would have him again in less than a minute. The useless legs dangling in an ungainly sprawl to the floor guaranteed that.

When he was finally upright again and in his chair, Logan cleared his throat. "Look, I'm not who you think I am, and –" He broke off when Deke stuck his gun in his face.

"Just quit it, man," Deke said, and Logan blinked at him. "I know what I see. Besides, some retards got smarts that show up in funny ways. Like that guy on 52nd who can tell anyone what day of the week his birthday was on in any year."

"Yeah," Jack said. "I read a book about that once. It's called idiot savant or something like that."

Logan stared back and forth between them. "Now what?" he asked, his level voice not revealing just how entirely freaked out he was. He longed to hear the door open, hear Max come strolling in, demanding his attention like she always did. And where was Molly? He hoped she was okay wherever she'd run to, and he wondered what these bruisers had been chasing her for.

"You got a car?" Deke asked. Logan set his jaw and looked away. Deke leaned forward and grabbed him by the hair. "Look, man, I can find out. You don't want to make me find out the hard way."

"He's got car keys over here," Jack said. "We just gotta find the parking space. How we going to keep him from wheeling off on us?"

"That's easy," Deke replied. He dug in his pockets. "Now, we don't want no one figuring out you're in trouble, so here's the deal. You tell anyone, they dead." Logan raised his eyes to Deke's and saw that the man was entirely serious. "Jack, hold his wrists." Between them, they forced Logan's hands together, and then Deke tied his fingers together, just the last three, but he tied them tightly. When they were done, Logan's hands fell into his lap, looking pretty natural, like he was just holding them there, and there was no way in hell he could take command of his chair. Logan swallowed convulsively, trying to control his growing fear. Deke grinned at him, then looked up. "Now, we grab whatever will fit in our pockets, and we go."

Logan sat still while they ransacked his apartment for small, valuable items. He had no reason to expect Max tonight, Bling wasn't due back for three more days, and Logan hadn't bothered telling him that the woman they'd hired as a substitute hadn't shown up past the second day. He had no appointments for a week. He had some calls to make, but nothing anyone would miss. Chances were that these guys could walk away with him, and no one would know for a couple of days that he was even missing.

"Ready, Logan?" Deke asked, coming up behind him suddenly. Logan took in a startled breath before he could stop himself. "Hey, don't be scared, we won't hurt you any more than you make us. We'll leave that for whoever buys you." He began to push the wheelchair forward, toward the door. Logan willed the door to open, for Max to walk in, but it didn't happen. Instead, Jack opened the door, and they went out to the elevator. A couple of his neighbors were about in the hall, but he didn't dare make any indication that he needed help, all too aware of the guns his captors were toting. Jack's was out, just hiding under the folded blanket he was carrying. The elevator took them unhindered down to the parking garage, and Logan knew he was not getting out of this. "Now, where's your parking spot, my man?" Deke asked, glancing aside at a trio of children playing in some of the open parking spaces. The threat was clear, and Logan couldn't ignore it.

"Left here, it's fifth along," he said.

"You got gas?"

"Full tank," Logan replied grimly.

"Now we are . . . you got to be kidding." Deke stopped, staring at Logan's car. "Money like you got and you drive this?"

Logan shrugged. "It gets me where I need to go."

Muttering about crappy cars and cheapskates, they 'helped' him into the backseat, put his wheelchair in the back and drove out of the garage. Logan kept his eyes open for anyone he knew, but his new friends pulled into an alley almost immediately, and Jack got out of the car. He opened the rear door and leaned in. "Lie down on the seat," he said.

Logan shook his head dubiously. "What are you doing?"

"We don't want no one to see you," Jack said. He grabbed Logan's arm and dragged him sideways. Logan pulled back, alarmed.

"Knock him out. It'll be easier that way," Deke said. Logan's eyes widened, and he brought his arms up to shield his head just barely too late to avoid the blow that sent his senses spinning away.

* * *

Original Cindy let out a whoop and leaned over to Max. "I need to find out which way that fine ass white chick swings!" she bellowed.

Max ducked and dragged Cindy down with her. "Over our heads at the moment," she shouted back, glancing up at the black rubber tire above them. "She can sure flip that bitch," she added admiringly.

"She is flexible," Sketchy said, giving the word a heavily sexual inflection.

Original Cindy grabbed Sketchy by the shoulder and swung him around to face her. "Oh no, boy, she is mine unless she don't wanna be."

Max laughed and watched Spokes get her groove on. When she was done, she rolled right off the end of the bar and landed on both wheels to tumultuous applause and raucous catcalls. Original Cindy joined the throng surrounding her, and Max grabbed Sketchy by the arm and led him over to find a table while most of the crowd was distracted.

"It's not fair," Sketchy moaned. "Why shouldn't I get an equal chance at her?"

Max shrugged. "You should. You're just scared Cindy will damage you if you try."

"That's not –" Sketchy started to protest, but Max just raised her eyebrows. "Okay, that's entirely true." He lapsed into glum silence, and Max entertained herself by watching the group around Spokes dissipate until only Original Cindy was left, and it was clear from body language that whichever other way she normally swung, she definitely veered in Cindy's direction.

"You want an adult beverage?" Sketchy asked loudly, and Max nodded. He went off to get a couple of beers and while he was gone, Cindy and Spokes walked up to the table and sat down. Max was vaguely surprised that they hadn't gone off to find a private spot, but she just gave Spokes her due on the awesome riding she'd done and sat back to enjoy her evening.

Sketchy returned from the bar and slid her drink to her. "You know what I just heard over there?" he asked, eyes round. He didn't immediately go on.

"No, we don't, and we ain't gonna 'less you tell us," Cindy said after a reasonable pause.

"There's a rumor going round that Eyes Only's been grabbed by someone who wants to sell him to the highest bidder." All three of them started laughing, but Sketchy shook his head. "No, I'm serious."

"How would anyone catch that Eyes Only dude?" Cindy asked. "He's in the wind."

"Nobody knows who he is," Spokes added.

Sketchy shrugged. "All it would take is someone breaking in while he was doing one of those broadcasts," he said. "Or something like that. Besides, he's got informants. One of them could turn on him for cash."

Max felt her amusement die a quick death, but Cindy shook her head. "Whatever, man, I don't believe it," she said, leaning against Spokes.

While Sketchy watched Cindy and Spokes mournfully, Max made a quiet exit from the table and called Logan. She told herself that she just wanted to share a funny story with him, but when the phone rang through to his answering machine, she bit her lip and tried his mobile. It, too, rang to voice mail. He might be out, but he'd have his cell phone on. She decided to check on him. He'd probably laugh at her when he heard why, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

As she passed the table, she leaned down by Cindy. "Gotta blaze, see you later."

"Hey, I didn't hear your pager."

"Neither did I," Max replied, shrugging disingenuously


	3. Chapter 3

When she got to the apartment, she knocked first, but there was no answer. Using her key, she slipped inside and started looking. She just hoped he wasn't doing something embarrassingly personal that precluded answering phone calls, but one look inside the apartment told her that something was badly wrong. The place had been ransacked. Nothing big had been taken, but she could tell that a few small pieces were missing from their usual spots. "Logan!" she called. She hurried through, continuing to call his name, but when she reached his office, she stopped dead.

There was blood on the floor, his computer was on but in sleep mode, and his desk had been trashed. Her heart skipped a beat. Logan would never leave things in this state, and neither would Bling. Where was that woman who was supposedly helping out in Bling's absence? She took a deep breath to still her emotional reaction, and in the quiet she heard a noise that set her on alert. There was a heartbeat somewhere inside. It could be Logan, hurt or sick, hiding. She crept through the rooms, triangulating on the sound till she was sure it came from the kitchen.

Here, too, the place had been ransacked. On the counter, she saw the remains of the chocolate pie that Logan had almost provided for dessert a couple of nights ago. Max walked slowly around the room, trying to locate the sound. Identifying the cupboard made her slow a little. It wasn't Logan. He wouldn't fit in that cupboard unless he was bent in ways that would stop his heart from beating. She squatted down and opened the cupboard door slowly.

Deep inside, behind the roasting pan, a pair of brown eyes stared at her, an odd distance in them. There was also a distinct smell of chocolate. Max pulled the roaster out and put it on the floor and stared at the child inside the cupboard. She had messy brown hair, an almost vacant expression, and she was clutching two things in her hands. One was a spiral bound notebook, the other was a small white card with a word written on the back of it an extremely careful child's hand. "Eyes." A plate smeared with chocolate sat on the shelf beside her, a fork neatly placed across it.

"Hi there," Max said, and the child didn't move. She barely blinked. "Why don't you come out and let's talk?" Still no reaction. "Did you see what happened to Logan?" When there was still no response, she reached forward and actually put her hand on the child's arm. The minute skin touched skin, the little girl began to scream wordlessly. Max pulled her hand back instantly, and the child calmed again after a few seconds.

Breathing deeply to control her own urge to scream, Max stood up and grabbed the phone. She dialed Bling's pager number and began to pace, waiting for him to call back. A few minutes later, the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Max. I was expecting –"

"Bling, we got a problem," she said.

"Where's Logan?" he asked.

"That's the problem," she replied. She didn't want to go into any detail on the phone, but Bling was sharp enough that she didn't have to.

"I'll be there in ten."

Max hung up and ground her teeth. All her instincts were saying she had to find Logan and find him fast, but the only apparent witness to his abduction was a freaked out little girl hiding in a cupboard. What the hell was she even doing here? Where was her family? What was going on?

The front door opened and Max put her back to the wall. It could be Bling, but it could be whoever'd made this mess and taken Logan. Footsteps entered the apartment, and she listened quietly, drawing closer to the entryway. "Son of a . . ."

Max closed her eyes with relief. She swung around into the entry hall. "Bling."

"Where's Logan?"

"I don't know. I heard a story about someone putting Eyes Only up for auction, so I called and he didn't answer. I came down and found the place ransacked, blood on the floor and a little girl hiding in a cupboard."

Bling stared at her, then started shaking his head. "Same shit, different day," he muttered.

"What?" Max asked.

He shook his head a little more sharply. "How much blood?"

"A smear, not much."

"Where's this little girl?"

"In the kitchen. She's really out of it. I don't know what they did to her or what happened, but she isn't responding to anything I say."

Bling headed into the kitchen and went straight for the open cupboard. Kneeling down in front, he said, "It's okay honey." His brows knit. "What was she doing when you saw her earlier?"

"Just staring at me." She peered down over Bling's shoulder and saw that the little girl was now drawing. She froze as if she sensed Max's eyes on her. "Maybe I'd better wait elsewhere," Max said, and withdrew from the kitchen. She went back to Logan's office and started straightening things up. The phone was in the corner farthest away from the desk. She picked it up and restored it to its place. Papers were strewn about. She picked them up and looked at them, not sure what might be important. It all seemed pretty disconnected. Finally, she picked up a notebook that was lying open flat on the floor. She turned it over and stared, flipping through pages. One of them had a smear of brown on it. She sniffed it and realized it was blood. After a moment, she put it down on the desk and walked back into the kitchen.

There she found the little girl sitting on the countertop. She slowed to a stop and looked at the child. "Molly?" she said, and the little girl turned her head.

"You know her name?" Bling asked, giving her an incredulous look.

"I figured it out," Max said, walking forward and gazing curiously at the little girl. "She's Logan's biggest fan."

"What?"

"Couple days ago Logan told me he ran into a little girl in a market. She was autistic, and she knew he was Eyes Only the minute she saw him."

"Eyes," Molly said, and they both looked at her.

"I wondered how she got his card," Bling said, nodding at it where it lay on the counter now. Molly still held onto her notebook, but she had apparently released the card. "Nobody would let a little girl like this out on her own. How long do you think she's been here?"

"She has another notebook, and there's a blood smear on one of the pages."

"So you think she was here for the attack."

"Yeah," Max said. "Our only witness is an autistic child who only says one word."

"Eyes," Molly said, as though to illustrate her point.

"Not our only witness," Bling said. "Molly?" She let him lift her down from the counter and lead her from the room. Max followed, completely lost.

* * *

Logan heard voices in the room outside his closet, and he straightened up. He didn't know how long it had been since Deke and Jack had taken him, but he'd spent almost all of it slumped in a walk-in clothes closet. On one of his trips to the bathroom, he'd seen what had to be all the clothes that belonged in the closet piled up on a sofa. He really hoped this wasn't what they'd had planned for Molly. That brought up another question he'd been pondering. How on earth had she wound up at his apartment alone? There was no way that Shannon would have let her out of her sight, so something had to have happened to Shannon. He'd spent a fair amount of time wondering about that. For one thing, it got his mind off his own troubles.

The footsteps approached the door to the closet, and Logan looked up nervously. "He wouldn't need as many trips to the potty if you'd quit giving him stuff to drink." That was Jack's voice. He didn't sound close.

"We need to keep the merchandise in good condition," Deke said right outside the door. The panel opened, letting in light that blinded Logan temporarily. "Here." A couple of things hit the floor by Logan's feet. "You need the john?"

"Not right now," Logan said, squinting up at Deke. "How long –" The door shut and the feet walked away.

Logan slumped back against the wall. He'd wedged himself into the corner to aid with his balance, and he'd pulled his legs up so that his knees were against his chest. Since his lanky frame didn't really fit inside this space, it was the most comfortable position he'd been able to find. The last time he'd let his legs lay flat, his foot had rolled out of the closet when Deke opened the door, and Deke had kicked it back inside. Logan hadn't felt anything, of course, but that made injuries all the more dangerous.

He'd wakened up in here, dropped any old way, his legs twisted up and his left arm under the bulk of his body. That had made sorting himself out a little complicated, as his left arm had fallen asleep from the shoulder down. He hated that feeling anymore. The last thing he needed was a reminder that he could be deprived of what sensation he had left.

Reaching down, he felt around for the stuff Deke had left him. Since they'd taken him, all he'd had was a couple of water bottles. Despite Jack's complaint, Deke was by no means giving him too much to drink. He was grindingly hungry and his mouth felt dry. Of course, anxiety might have something to do with the latter. He found a water bottle and a cheese stick on the floor and picked them up. His mouth watered at the thought of the cheese, and he opened the package carefully. He drew out the "meal" as long as he could, savoring each bite.

It galled him to know that he could be held prisoner so easily. He wasn't tied up, and they didn't even bother with guns when they opened the door. Max would have been out of there in the first five seconds. Of course, Max was super-charged, so that wasn't exactly a fair comparison. But Logan had a feeling that Deke and Jack would show a modicum of caution around just about anyone else they were keeping locked in a closet. But really, what could he do? Bite their kneecaps off as was so memorably suggested in a pre-Pulse movie? Even if he managed to grab Deke by the legs and bring him down, even if he got the man's gun, all Jack would have to do was shut the door. Logan could barely reach the knob. That would leave him trapped in the closet with no chance of food, water or bathroom breaks.

The last bite of cheese was gone all too quickly. He twisted up the wrapper and stuck it in his jeans pocket. Resting his head back in the corner of the walls, he closed his eyes. Once Max noticed he was missing, she would move heaven and earth to find him. The question was, would it be too late?

* * *

Max stared at the screen that showed her and Bling in front of the computer and Molly on the floor drawing eyes in her little notebook. She was a little alarmed. "You mean Logan has recordings of every conversation we've had in here?" she asked.

Bling shook his head. "It's on a loop," he said. "Eighty-four hours. Then it records over the old stuff."

She shrugged, dismissing the issue as irrelevant for the time being. "Whatever, we need to find out what happened to Logan."

"No doubt." He started running the footage backwards. She and Bling walked backwards out of the room with Molly, then she watched herself neaten up the room in reverse. There was one more brief bit of her when she'd walked in earlier, then nothing for hours. She looked at the counter and saw that Bling had sped things up so that they were going at an hour every ten seconds or so. At that rate, it took an alarmingly long time for anything to happen. "It wasn't yesterday, that's for sure," Bling said as the date stamp ran back a day. "When did you see him last?"

"Day before that," she said. "Monday. We had dinner, and I left around ten." Max began to pace again. That meant whoever had him had already held him for at least forty-eight hours.

Bling kept running the video back till around two o'clock on Tuesday they got some images. Max watched the attack in fast reverse, fury burning in her gut. When it was done, they watched it forward and listened to the bastards discuss what they could get for selling Eyes Only on the open market.

"What are they looking at?" Bling asked when they ran through it a second time. Max picked up the notebook she'd found on the floor and handed it to him. It opened right up to the page with the blood on it and Bling let out a blistering curse. "I told him the Clark Kent thing wouldn't always work. Damn it."

"Who's Clark Kent?" Max asked. Bling gave her a funny look, then shook his head. "So, who were those guys?" she asked.

"No idea," Bling said. "But they weren't after him. They were following the girl."

"And all I know about her is that her name is Molly and she's obsessed with Eyes Only." Max leaned forward and hit a button, intending to send the video back to the beginning again, but she must have hit the wrong thing, because it called up an archived Eyes Only broadcast.

"Do not attempt to adjust your set. This is a streaming freedom video bulletin. The cable hack will last exactly 60 seconds. It cannot be traced –"

Bling reached out and cut it off, but when the sound of Logan's distorted voice cut out, they could hear another voice speaking the words, using Logan's intonations. They both turned and looked at Molly who continued the standard intro to the end. After a moment, she started drawing again.

"Who wants you so bad that they'd go into someone else's apartment and try to kill him to get you?" Max muttered to herself, walking over and squatting down in front of the child. Molly didn't even look up.

"I think I may have found her," Bling said, and Max looked up at him. "The McKinnon family home was broken into early Tuesday morning by kidnappers who took the youngest and eldest daughters. Shannon and Molly McKinnon were in the home alone at the time of the break in. Douglas and Mary McKinnon flew back from their mountain retreat and are reportedly distraught."

"Is there a ransom demand?"

"This article doesn't say."

There was a knock on the door, and Bling sent the computers to sleep before going to get it. Max squatted next to Molly. "What did you see?" she asked softly. "I know it's in there."

"Max, it's the police," Bling said loudly. "Logan's been kidnapped."

In the seconds between that announcement and the arrival of the police in the room, Max made an abrupt decision. She turned around, clasped her hands together, and put on the best idiot face she could find. "Kidnapped?" she exclaimed, letting her voice go squeaky. "But I saw him two days ago, and he was fine. What do you they want? Why would they do this?"

After a split second of total astonishment, Bling crossed the room to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "It will be all right, Max," he said.

A crowd of men, plain clothes and uniformed officers both, came in following him. An older black man with graying hair stepped forward. "Who's this?" he asked.

"This is Max Guevara, Logan's girlfriend."

"You saw him on Monday, Miss Guevara?"

Max nodded, sniffing and trying to call up tears. "He made me dinner."

"As I said, we were just about to call you," Bling said. "Max came to see him this afternoon and found the place ransacked and –"

"There's blood on the floor," Max exclaimed, pointing.

"Is that Molly McKinnon?" asked one of the uniformed officers, staring at the little girl sitting placidly on the floor, drawing eyes.

"Is that her name?" Max asked, turning. "I . . . I didn't know, I found her here when I arrived." She knew there were surveillance cameras in the halls outside Logan's apartment, it was one of the reasons she'd broken in the way she had in the first place, back in the beginning. The authorities would be able to find out that Molly had come in shortly before the men who had taken Logan had.

"Why would she have come here?" asked a black man. Max identified him as the man in charge from the way all the other officers moved around him.

"I don't know," Max said. "I found her here in the kitchen with Logan's business card in her hand."

The cops split them up immediately after that. Captain Parker, the black man, sent them in different directions to be interviewed separately. Max found herself in one of the guest rooms, talking to a Detective Milton. He was a blond guy of about thirty. An Asian guy named Sung led Bling off towards his own room, and crime scene people started dusting for prints and collecting evidence. While they did that, she took Detective Milton through her evening. The only fact she altered was her reason for coming by, and she borrowed the manner of one of her co-workers, sweet and not particularly together. She didn't think Maggie would mind the loan. Milton offered her tissues for her tears and reassured her that Logan would undoubtedly be found. Finally, he released her just in time to witness the arrival of Molly's parents.

Looks alone told her that the woman was Molly's mother. They had the same dark hair and pleasant face, but the mother was at home behind her eyes. Her husband was heavyset with sandy hair and a marked glower. "I'm Douglas McKinnon," he announced to Detective Parker. "My wife, Mary. How is it you found Molly, but not Shannon?"

"It appears that Molly got away from her captors and came here under her own power," Parker replied with just a touch of deference.

"She's retarded," McKinnon protested, and Max bit down on irritation. Douglas McKinnon barreled on with his diatribe. "She couldn't possibly have –"

"She's autistic, Douglas, it's not the same thing," Molly's mother interrupted tiredly.

"I understand a man lives here," Douglas added, not seeming to pay his wife much attention. "Is he being investigated for possible involvement in the kidnapping of my elder daughter?" A hand on her arm distracted Max from her surge of anger. She turned, and Bling gave her a warning look. Since she'd been about to go explain things to Molly's father, his timing was excellent.

"He was abducted himself," Parker said, and both Molly's parents looked startled. "From what we can tell, the men pursuing your daughter took him and left her behind. His family has also been contacted with a ransom demand."

"Why would they do that?" Douglas demanded. Max thought it sounded as if he were offended that Logan had been preferred over his daughter. It seemed a bizarre reaction.

Parker seemed to agree. He shrugged. "Is your family acquainted with the Cales?"

"I've met Jonas Cale a time or two, but we're not particularly close. Why?"

"So, you don't know of any reason why your daughter might have sought out Logan Cale for help?" Mary's eyes widened, and she looked up at her husband. Douglas pursed his lips. "Or do you?" Parker asked.

"Shannon mentioned meeting him when I spoke to her on Monday night," Douglas said. "She said he offered to help get Molly into a school – as if we need his help." Bling's hand tightened on Max's arm as if he sensed her desire to go smack Douglas McKinnon.

Parker shrugged again. "Evidently Molly thought she could get help from him. I've seen the video. She very clearly came her of her own accord, followed by the two men who then abducted Logan Cale."

"Where is Molly?" Mary asked, and Max thought it was about time one of her parents asked that question.

"Sgt. Michaels will take you to her," he said, and one of the uniforms stepped forward. "We've had paramedics take a look at her," Parker said to Douglas. "She appears healthy enough despite subsisting wholly on chocolate pie for the last two days."

"Thank you," Douglas said, and they followed Sgt. Michaels towards Logan's office. Parker watched them go. As he turned, he caught sight of her. "Miss Guevara, Mr. Bling, if Detectives Milton and Sung are done with you, you're free to go. As a crime scene, this apartment will have to be sealed off for a day or two. Mr. Bling, if you need anything from your room, please check with Detective Sung."

"Thanks," Bling said. He walked Max out of the apartment. "I'll page you later and we can meet. Otherwise, call this number if you need anything." He handed her a slip of paper.

"Who is this?" she asked, glancing at the number.

"My mom," Bling said. "Do you need any help getting home?"

Max shook her head. "I'm covered."

Bling gave her a quick hug. "We'll get him back safe and sound," he murmured. "Take care."

"Thanks. Call me." She hurried downstairs and out of the building. She hadn't gotten very far when her pager went off. She found a phone and called the number, surprised when it was Bling who answered.

"Max, do you know the park where Logan plays basketball?"

"Sure," Max said.

"Meet me there in an hour."


	4. Chapter 4

Logan awakened out of the doze he'd finally fallen into at the sound of hurried footsteps. The door to his prison jerked open, and he blinked up at the figure he could barely see. He'd taken his glasses off and put them in his pocket when he'd decided to try and sleep, and the light pouring into the dark space blinded him further.

The man bent over him, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him out of the closet. "What's going on?" Logan asked, blinking to try and wish away the grogginess that had resulted from the abrupt awakening.

Another man came running into the room. "They'll be here in five minutes. Get him ready, get him ready!" This was Deke, which probably made the guy manhandling him Jack. He should have known that before. Deke was marginally gentler.

"Guys, what's going on?" Logan repeated. Jack dragged him onto an upright chair and tried to situate his butt on it. Deke started helping him or Logan was pretty sure he'd have wound up with more bruises on his hips and sides. Jack seemed to underestimate the length of Logan's torso. He'd noticed that the first time the man had taken him to the bathroom. "A little information, here?"

"Should we gag him?" Jack asked.

"Hell, no, they might ask us to make him talk."

"We don't want him talking before we're ready for him to, though," Jack protested.

While they argued, they got him upright in the chair and tied his hands behind the chair back. Deke positioned his feet like he was sitting normally and stepped back. "How are we going to remove a gag while we've got that hood on him?"

Logan looked back and forth between them, feeling a sharp stab of 'better the devil you know.' "Guys, I'm not –"

Jack took advantage of his open mouth to jam a gag into it, then tied it around the back of his head. "I'll work something out."

"Okay." Deke dug something out of his pocket, which turned out to be a dark blue pillowcase. He put it over Logan's head, though Logan grunted and struggled. He really didn't like this. Still less did he like it when they twisted the hood around till it revealed the part of his face that showed during his broadcasts. Deke turned, his body blocking the doorway. "What's the camera for?" Deke demanded, sounding alarmed.

"I figured when these guys are done with their viewing, we can make him record the proof of life the Cale people are asking for."

Cale people? Logan blinked. Proof of life? Could they be thinking of double-dipping? Getting a ransom for Logan Cale while selling Eyes Only to the highest bidder? Were they nuts? Would Uncle Jonas pay?

"Put that shit somewhere else, you idiot!" Deke growled. "If our guests get the feeling we might be taping them, they'll freak out. We'll be dead."

"Fine. I'll dump them in the closet. That do?"

Logan struggled against the ropes and the gag, but the only thing that happened was that he started to slowly tip over. Deke grabbed him and jerked him upright. He leaned down by Logan's ear. "You hold still, my man," Deke murmured. "In fact, you do everything I say, or when these guys leave, I will shoot a hole through your hand with a shotgun. It won't kill you, but you'll never use that hand again, even if by some miracle you manage to escape. You hear me?" Logan was frozen with terror. Deke shook him slightly. "Do you hear me?" Logan managed to nod.

"Good man," Deke said, standing up again and patting Logan on his shoulders. Logan heard a TV pop on behind him, then his own voice starting one of his standard openers. It stopped, and he knew they had to have one of his own broadcasts paused with his eyes plainly visible. This couldn't get much worse.

He clenched his teeth on the gag and hoped that it would be Max and one of her friends coming through the doorway. He already knew she could play any part she needed to, but Max didn't even necessarily know he was missing. He heard a distant knocking, and his shoulders knotted up. Jack left the room hastily, and Logan could sense Deke's agitation. Logan closed his eyes and tried to control the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him. If his captors were made nervous by whoever was coming, he undoubtedly should be petrified.

Jack came back in a few moments later. "It was a messenger. There's a delay. They want us to be ready at six a.m."

"Well, then, let's get that tape made and my man here can lounge in the closet for a few hours before we get him ready again." Deke patted Logan's shoulders briskly and pulled the hood off Logan's head. He untied the gag. "You ready?"

Logan took in a shuddering breath. "Do I have a choice?" he asked.

Deke chuckled. "I still got that shotgun, my man."

Logan worked his jaw to rid himself of the feeling of the gag. "Then I guess I'm ready," he said, his voice stronger than he'd expected it to be.

Deke pulled the pillowcase over his own head, and Jack handed Deke a newspaper. Deke held it down where Logan could see it. "Just read the first article out loud," Jack said, then he retreated behind the camera.

Logan swallowed uneasily and looked at the blurry lines of words. "I need my glasses. And are you going to turn off that TV?"

"Shit!" Jack exclaimed.

Deke disappeared from beside him and Logan heard the pop as the TV turned off. "Glad _you_ remembered," Deke remarked. "But you might as well stop denying it. Only Eyes Only would care about that video in the background, eh?"

Logan grimaced. "My glasses?" he asked. Deke put them on his face with exaggerated care and held the newspaper out again. Then he added a touch that made Logan's gut flip over; he put a gun to Logan's head. Jack turned on the camera, and Logan began to read, the words blurring in his mind even though they were now clear in his sight. One plus to these guys making a ransom demand to the Cale Trust was that his abduction would now be public enough that Max had to know.

How many hours were a few? How close to six a.m. was it really? On what day? Deke untied him, took him to the bathroom, then dumped him back in the closet. Logan had to try hard not to be grateful for the pit stop. The closet door closed again. What day was it? Six a.m. Wednesday morning, or six a.m. Thursday morning? With some effort, he pulled himself into his preferred position again. Max had those hours left to find him. It had to be enough.

* * *

Max wondered why Bling had suggested this spot. It seemed like an odd place for people to meet after dark. She pulled up on her bike and peered through the many fences to where she could see Bling pacing. She pushed her bike amid the fences and reached him. "What's up?" she asked.

"Well, first, you deserve an Oscar for that performance."

Max shrugged. Compliments were nice, but basically irrelevant. "Why did you want to meet me?"

"Actually, I asked someone else to join us, so we can all share information." He nodded towards someone behind her, and Max turned to see the Asian cop approaching. Detective Sung.

"You want me to talk to a cop?" she asked angrily, and started to leave.

"He's a friend of Logan's," Bling said hastily, and she paused irresolutely. "And he's an Eyes Only informant."

This startled her, and she turned to look at him. "He knows?"

Bling nodded. "He's a regular informant," Bling said. "I just think we all need to pool our information."

Scowling, Max put her bike against the fence and waited. The detective walked up, and Max could tell when he'd spotted her. His brows drew together in a dubious look. Max wiped her face clean of expression, watching him as he took Bling by the arm and drew him aside. In a voice meant to be too low for her to hear, he said, "Why is she here? Couldn't you have sent her home?"

"He knows better than to try," Max said, glowering. Detective Sung turned towards her with wide eyes.

"Max is useful for finding out information," Bling said. "But you had better not inquire too closely about her methods."

Sung shrugged, seeming to accept this at face value. "Okay, so, what's this connection to Eyes Only that you mentioned?"

"Please tell me that you cops have heard the rumor that he's for sale," Max said irritably.

"Of course we have," Sung snapped.

"So those bastards have decided to get two paydays. Sell Eyes Only and collect a ransom on his mild-mannered alter ego."

"But they don't have Eyes Only," Sung said, looking puzzled.

"Yes, they do, what –" Max broke off. "Bling, you said he knew."

"I said he knew about . . ." Bling closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "Shit, that's not what I meant."

Sung looked back and forth between them with wide eyes. "Logan is Eyes Only? I thought he just worked for him."

"That little girl figured it out. How come no one else ever does?"

"No one's sure how autistic people perceive things," Bling said. "It's not that weird, really."

"If Logan is Eyes Only, that changes the shape of the situation," Sung said.

"Doesn't it?" Max said sourly. "Do you guys know anything that might help me find him?"

"Help you find . . ." Sung shook his head. "Miss Guev –"

"Max."

"Max, you need to let us do our job."

"Yeah, I know, Logan is rich enough for the cops to be interested." Sung grimaced at that observation, but he didn't protest. "The fact is, though, that you guys are going to be looking for people holding him for ransom, not people who are selling him. Besides, I'm not sure I want him getting found by the cops when the bad guys have a handy quid pro quo to use to get off. The last thing we need is for Logan to be outed to Detective Parker or whoever else."

"Shit," Bling muttered.

"So, information?"

"We actually don't have much. McKinnon's done business with members of the Lopez group, and if you know anything about those politics, you know how popular they are."

"So it could be anyone connected to half a dozen families and gangs," Max said thoughtfully. An idea that had been forming itself slowly in the back of her mind suddenly crystallized. "I need access to the apartment – and passwords to the computer." They both stared at her. "Unless you can get me a small player with the opener for the Eyes Only broadcast on it some other way – like now."

"I can give you the passwords, Max, at least enough to get you that far, but the cops sealed things off pretty tight."

"I can get in," Max said.

"I probably shouldn't hear this," Sung said.

"It's okay, detective, I don't think the owner would mind. I'm likely to take less stuff than your colleagues already have." Again, Sung didn't protest. Max was beginning to kind of like him. "You get anything I need to know, contact Bling. He has my pager number."

"I can't write the passwords down," Bling said.

"Just whisper them in my ear," she replied.

"They're kind of long and –"

"Bling, just tell me," she said. He leaned over and began to whisper. When he was done, she nodded. "Gotta blaze."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made a minor update to the previous chapter. Spaced on some notes that I had put into the text. Oops.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a small readership, but that puts pressure on each of you who is reading. You can't count on the dozens ;) of other readers to take care of the need to leave comments. You have to do it yourself to encourage the writer. Please. Encourage me. :D

**Chapter 5**

The house was still dark, but Max knew she had limited time before people started stirring. Admittedly, Mom and Dad had been up in the middle of the night, but there were servants and assistants who would no doubt rise with the dawn, and she still had to find the right room. If this had been another family, she might have been out of luck, but she had a feeling that Mom and Dad would be perfectly willing to leave Molly alone even after all that had happened, and she discovered that she was right when she found the child's bedroom.

Walking in was more than a little creepy. If Deke and Jack had come in here before going to Logan's, maybe it was no wonder they'd seen it so quickly. Logan's eyes stared at her from every wall, some photos, some drawings that were in crayon, but were nevertheless recognizable. Molly sat at a short table in a shorter chair, drawing. Why wasn't she shocked?

Max walked over and opened the window, peering out. No problem escaping by that route. She left it open and went to sit down on the floor next to Molly. This bedroom was far enough away from the other occupied rooms to be safe enough for some noise, so long as no one got up and wandered around, but she'd better be as quick as she could.

"Hey, Molly," Max said in an ordinary tone, as if visitors in the middle of the night shouldn't bug Molly at all. Certainly, Molly wasn't acting like there was anything odd going on. The little girl paused in her drawing and looked in Max's direction. "I need your help to find Eyes."

"Eyes," Molly repeated, and she put her crayon down.

Max put the hand held video player down on the table in front of Molly. "I need to know what happened at your house when the bad guys came." She pressed the button and the Eyes Only image came up, Logan speaking the words of his intro. "Do not attempt to adjust your set. This is a Streaming Freedom . . ." Max cut it off just before the end and waited.

Molly was still speaking. ". . .free voice left in the city. Five thugs from the Brudecker crime syndicate broke into the home of Douglas McKinnon at just past two Tuesday morning. Finding two daughters at home, they attempted to abduct both. They succeeded in knocking the elder girl out, but the younger girl eluded their grasp and fled to the home of Logan Cale. She was pursued by junior members of the syndicate who changed targets once they realized that Logan Cale was, in fact, Eyes Only. Shannon McKinnon and Logan Cale need your help. Will you give it to them?" Molly fell silent, oddly vacant eyes fixed on Max's face.

"I will," Max said, making the words a promise.

After a moment, Molly returned to her drawing, and Max got up. She rested her hand on the child's head for a second, then jumped out the window.

Finding a pay phone, she called Bling at his mother's place. He answered immediately, and Max smiled. "Meet me at Logan's building, in the first floor stairwell. Now."

"Sure. Max, what –"

She hung up and took off on her bike towards Logan's building. It didn't take long for Bling to join her in the stairwell, but it seemed to take hours. When he got there, she said, "You up to climbing to the roof?" she asked.

"Sure, but why?" They started trotting up the stairs.

"Because our best entrance is through the skylight," she said. "Otherwise the hallway cameras will catch us going in and out, and you can bet the cops are keeping an eye on that."

"What did you find out?"

"I know who took him," Max replied. She was having to hold her pace down to allow Bling to keep up with her.

"How'd you find out?"

"I asked Molly."

Bling rocked to a stop. "What? But she doesn't speak!"

Max stopped on the next landing. "Sure she does. You just need to know how to ask the question."

Bling didn't say anything, but he started moving again, which satisfied Max. The pace was frustratingly slow, but she needed Bling. He understood how Logan's computer was set up better than she did, and she didn't have time to embrace the learning curve.

Once they were settled and Bling had full access, she started to speak, but Bling let out a series of curses. "What's wrong?"

"The cops have been trying to hack in. We can't let them do that."

"Worry about that later. Right now, we need to find the Brudecker crime syndicate."

Bling's cell phone rang, and he picked it up. "It's Matt," he said, and Max shook her head, not sure who he meant. "Matt Sung," he amplified, and she nodded. He pushed the button for speaker phone and said, "Yeah?"

"I've got new information. The kidnappers sent the Cales a proof of life, and I've got a copy of the video. Where can you and Max meet me?"

"Come to the roof of Logan's building," Max said. "Bring us any information you can on the Brudecker syndicate."

"Be there in ten." Sung cut the connection and Bling put the phone away.

Max leaned over Bling's shoulder, watching closely as he called information up. "Look for properties owned by them, peripherally if possible."

"I'm not as good on this thing as Logan is."

"Then try to think like Logan," Max directed, making Bling glare at her. She paced while the search continued, then when Sung was due, she climbed up to the roof. He was there, waiting and looking impatient. She hissed to get his attention. He turned and his jaw dropped. "Come on down, if you're up to the climb," she said.

He walked over and peered down the rope. She slid down and stepped back. After a moment, he seemed to come to a decision. He had a packet of papers in his hands. He held them out and raised his eyebrows. She held out her hands, and he dropped them to her. Grabbing the rope, he lowered himself down carefully.

"Come on," she said, and after handing him back his papers, she led the way to the office. Sung didn't seem overly surprised to see Bling there. "Where's the video?" Max asked when no one spoke for a moment.

Sung held out a disk, and Bling took it, rolling the chair over to another machine to put it in. They all stood back and watched the screen come to life. It was an image of what could be any apartment in the city with Logan and another man in the foreground. The second man wore a hood of some kind. In one hand he held a gun against Logan's head, and in the other he held a newspaper positioned so that Logan could read it. From what she could see, Logan appeared to have his hands tied behind his back. After a swallow that made his Adam's apple jerk, Logan looked into the screen briefly and then read from the paper. Max felt her anger solidify into something implacable. Logan had a cut just above and to the right of his eyebrow. A bruise spread out from it, a livid reddish purple. His eyes were sunken and held a deep-seated anxiety that made her stomach twist. After about two paragraphs, the guy next to him tossed the paper away and grabbed him by the hair, making Logan's eyes widen with something that looked like fear. "We will contact you tomorrow at two with instructions for how to deliver the fifteen million dollars. If we don't get it, we will kill him in the most bloody and brutal way possible." She could see from Logan's eyes that he knew it was a lie, that he knew he was dead no matter what, but then the video cut out.

"Play it again," Max said. "Only can you zoom in on the TV screen in the background?"

"Why?" Matt asked while Bling followed the instructions.

"I think I can see a face reflected in it." Max leaned closer as the image came back up on the screen. She blocked out Logan's flat voice and focused on the TV. "By the way, the guy speaking was Deke. I think the guy behind the camera is Jack."

"Deke and Jack?" Sung said. "I've seen those names in this file," he added when Max turned to him.

"They got last names there? And pictures?"

Sung opened the file and found the spot he was looking for, then passed it back to her. "Names, at least," he said. "These two."

"Junior members," she muttered, looking at the names that were represented in some kind of hierarchy diagram. Deke Hoover and Jack Farnsworth were somewhere towards the bottom, identified as a team. "No photos?"

"Not in this file."

"See if either of them has an apartment on record," Max said to Bling.

After a couple of seconds, Bling shook his head. "Nothing."

"If they're squatters, finding them could be a challenge," she remarked.

"They have power," Matt said. "They can't be squatters."

"We have power," she replied. "It's not that hard to steal." Matt looked away, like he didn't want to hear what she was saying. She rolled her eyes. "Not that it matters, we don't know where they live either way."

"Arnold Brudecker owns seven houses, but six of them are occupied, clear records of utilities and stuff," Bling said suddenly. "The seventh is in renovations, which –"

"Which gives a handy excuse for bulky deliveries," Max put in.

"But not for people to be around after dark," Matt said.

"Where is it?" Max asked, peering at the map. "That's a high rent district. I'd bet there are lights and guards around it at night."

"There's a lot of power usage," Bling said. "All around the clock."

"Gotta blaze," Max said, and she took off, ignoring the voices behind her.

* * *

Matt watched Max leave, wondering if she was always so impulsive. "Will she be safe, doing this on her own?" he asked.

"Max is a woman of many talents," Bling replied, and Matt gave him an uncertain look. He knew Logan trusted Bling implicitly – after all, Bling knew the ultimate secret of Eyes Only – but Matt didn't know the man very well himself. "You think your friends are done trying to get into Logan's computer, or do I need to take steps to protect the data?"

Matt grimaced disgustedly. "There wasn't any reason to even try to get in. The abduction was clearly opportunistic, so there won't be anything in his records that would warn of a kidnap attempt." He shook his head and pursed his lips. "I think I can probably get the apartment released tomorrow. I'll see what I can do."

"That would be great."

"I'd better get going, though. First thing tomorrow, I get to interview her co-workers."

"That should be fun."

"Better I do it than one of the others," Matt said, snorting. "That way anything they say that doesn't fit with the sweetness and light, distraught young thing we met earlier tonight won't be taken amiss."

"Call you if we get any new information," Bling said.

"Thanks." Matt left the apartment by the impromptu exit that Max had provided. All the way down the stairs he contemplated all the new information he had. Every time Logan had told him that 'Eyes Only' wouldn't act on the information he'd provided, he'd been speaking as the man himself. Had he simply not trusted Matt, or was he avoiding putting Matt in a difficult position? If Max hadn't told him the truth, though, he might still be trying to persuade her to let the police handle things, not knowing the disaster that could prove.

He shook his head and headed home where his family slept peacefully. It would be a short night for him. Again.

* * *

Max had already slipped past the outer perimeter guards, and there was clearly something going on here beyond the guarding of a house undergoing remodeling. Most of the activity seemed to be centered on the third floor, so after checking out the first and second floors, she crept up slowly, not wanting to make any moves till she knew what she was dealing with. Before she did anything else, she wanted to know where they were keeping Logan.

The main hallway on the third floor was too heavily patrolled. Max went back down to the second, went out a window, and climbed up to the third. There was a decorative ledge most of the way round each level, so she had no trouble holding on as she went from window to window, peering in. One room was clearly a hangout. There was a card game in progress among three men, and Max paused to listen.

". . . raise you five," said one guy, dropping a bill on the pile in the center of the table. Leaning back in his chair, he spoke as if continuing an interrupted thought. "I still want to know where Deke and Jack are. Especially now that little Molly's back in the family fold."

"What?" asked a second guy, but the third didn't seems surprised at all.

"Yeah, we just got the news an hour or so ago. She was found at some guy's apartment, safe and sound. So, I ask you, where are Deke and Jack?"

"Under arrest?" suggested the second man.

"Naw," the third guy said. "They'd have sung like canaries if they'd been caught. We'd've heard by now, cuz the cops would've raided the place over on Canal where we told them to take the kid."

"So where are they?" asked the first.

"Brudecker's gonna kill them when he finds them."

Max thought that was likely, since they appeared to have struck out on their own. What it really meant was that Logan was certainly not here. She toyed with the thought of leaving and just tipping off the cops, but then a fourth man walked in. "She still won't eat."

"Not our problem," the first guy said. "Ante up, guys."

Max pursed her lips and kept creeping along the wall. The next room was a bathroom, and then she came to a room where a girl was cuffed to a bed. There was a plate of food next to her and a glass of water. She lay on her back and Max got the feeling she was crying. Max grimaced and opened the window as quietly as possible. The girl didn't appear to hear her, and Max didn't hear yelling from the hallway, so she eased into the room and walked across to the girl.

Wide eyes turned towards her, but the girl made no noise. Max sat down on the edge of the bed. "Shannon?" she asked quietly. The girl nodded. Max dug in her pocket and pulled out a pick. She made short work of the cuffs and helped Shannon to her feet. "Can you put your arms around my neck and hold on?"

"I can try." Her voice was wobbly.

Max gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be climbing down the wall of a three-story building. Try hard." Shannon's eyes widened, and she peered out the window. Max climbed out first, then Shannon climbed out after her, gripping her piggyback style. After making a couple of adjustments to the holds Shannon had taken, Max made her way down, but it was good that it wasn't a four-story building, because it was clear that Shannon was tiring by the time they got to the ground. Now they just had to get past the perimeter guards. Max was pleased that she apparently didn't have to caution Shannon to stay close and keep quiet. Max got her to the fence and pried up the chain link.

"What about Molly?" Shannon said, balking suddenly.

"Molly's safe at home," Max replied.

"She is?" Shannon asked. "You're sure?"

"Saw her there myself. Go under the fence."

Biting her lip, Shannon rolled under. Max followed and held her back for a moment, till the perimeter guards were at opposite ends of their patrols, then she hustled Shannon through.

"What do we do now?"

"I'm going to get you to the police." Max peered around the corner of the next block. The coast was clear, so she led Shannon along. It wasn't difficult to guide her; Shannon was holding onto her sweatshirt, matching her step for step. "You tell them you got out on your own."

"What?" Shannon exclaimed. "Why? How?"

Max shrugged. "Tell them you climbed down the wall . . . there was a drainpipe."

"What about the cuffs?"

"I don't know," Max said impatiently. "You had a hairpin and you were desperate. Make it convincing, I can't be connected to this."

Shannon was silent for a second, and her voice was anxious when she spoke again. "Who are you?"

"Logan Cale's a friend of mine," Max said.

"So?" Shannon asked, sounding puzzled.

Max stopped and turned towards her. "Your sister ran to him when she got away." Shannon's eyes widened.

"Are you saying Logan sent you?"

"Not exactly. The guys who were chasing Molly decided he was a better catch. I was looking for him."

Shannon's eyes widened. "So, you rescued me on accident?"

Max shrugged. "No, I figured you were both there, and I was going to get you both out." Shannon bit her lip and nodded, and they started moving again. "I guess you didn't hear them say anything?"

Shannon shook her head. They kept going on through residential blocks until Max spotted a police car. She pulled Shannon to a stop and pointed. "You see that car up ahead?" The girl nodded. "I'm going to stay here, but I'll watch you. Go to them and tell them who you are." Shannon clung to her, and Max gently detached her. "You'll be fine. Go. I need to find Logan, and I can't do that if they see me."

Shannon took a couple of nervous steps away, then looked at Max, who nodded. She took off running up the street and Max watched the cops respond to her. If they'd been anything other than kind, Max had been prepared to run up and slam them both, but sympathy shone from every line of their body language.

Max turned away and went back to the house. Apparently they had just noticed that their captive was missing because as she arrived, four guys came running out and fanned across the property. Max grinned with feral glee and targeted the one who didn't care whether 'the girl' ate. Separated as they were, it was easy enough to drag him into a shadow and get him in a chokehold.

Applying pressure to the blood vessels in his neck, Max knocked him out and dragged him a few blocks away, keeping to the shadows. Shoving him up against a wall, she waited for him to wake up.


	6. Chapter 6

Hurried footsteps woke Logan up again. He was just reaching for his glasses in his shirt pocket when the door opened hard enough to slam back against the wall. Hands grabbed his upper arms and dragged him out of the closet into the room. "What's –"

"Shut it, my man," Deke hissed. "Our buyer is here to look at the merchandise, so keep your mouth shut." The bottom dropped out of Logan's stomach. The buyer was not good news. Was it six? He wanted to know what day it was. Wednesday? Could it be Thursday? It felt longer, but he didn't want to believe he'd spent more than two days sitting in that closet.

Deke got Logan into the chair and tied his hands behind his back. After situating Logan's feet properly, Deke looked up at him. "Now, I've brought the shotgun with me this time," he said, lifting it into view. Logan's mouth went dry at the sight of it. "Just keep that in mind, and don't speak unless I ask you to." He nodded jerkily. Deke grinned and put the hood over Logan's head again, twitching it till Logan's eyes were in full view. There was an electronic popping sound as the TV set behind him was turned on again, and Logan tried to still the rapid beating of his heart. The next few minutes would be very telling.

Deke cocked the shotgun right behind Logan's head, then rested the butt of the gun on the floor, an audible reminder of what punishment would be meted out for disobedience. Deke's hand landed heavily on his shoulder, and Logan swallowed convulsively.

The door opened, and the first one through it was Jack. "This way," he said, stepping to the side to allow the buyer immediate entrance. Logan blinked, feeling a stab of alarm when he saw who it was. Jeffrey Tallant was a well known middleman, which meant he still didn't know just who had bought him. Tallant brokered deals, so there was someone involved who didn't want to be seen to be involved. Tallant also didn't have a sparkling reputation for keeping his deals. If he thought he could get away with it, he'd welsh on payment or arrange conveniently timed robberies of people he'd paid. Two men entered with him, clearly bodyguards of some sort.

Jack cleared his throat nervously. "As you can see, his eyes are –"

"The similarity is amazing," Tallant said, walking forward and leaning close to examine Logan's eyes. "But it still could be a coincidence. What about the voice?"

Deke squeezed Logan's shoulder. "Do it, my man, speak your piece." Logan closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He wasn't going to – he felt the barrel of the shotgun brush against his hand. He heard Deke's voice close to his ear, low enough not to be heard by their guests. "If you make me shoot your hand up, my man, you'll have to pull yourself together and do it anyway or I'll shoot off the other hand."

Logan started to shake. He took a couple of breaths, trying to control his incipient panic. Deke shook him lightly, and he bit his lip. "Do not attempt to adjust your set," he said shakily. "This is a streaming freedom video bulletin." Behind him, the TV came off pause, and his own voice started speaking, a few seconds back in the opener. He stopped speaking, but the damage was done.

"Well, gentlemen, I'm satisfied," Tallant said. Apparently that was a cue, because two shots went off almost simultaneously. Fear made Logan's stomach convulse, but he remained still in his chair. Nothing hit him, but he felt Deke's hand loosen on his shoulder, then fall away. There was a clatter as the shotgun hit the ground slightly before the twin thumps of Jack and Deke's bodies. Footsteps ran out of the room, and Logan realized that one of the goons was checking the apartment for other live people. Tallant stepped forward and whipped the hood off Logan's head. Tallant smiled down at him. "I've always wanted to see the rest of the face that went with that voice," he said. "You don't disappoint."

Logan didn't know what that was supposed to mean, so he just tightened his jaw and looked past Tallant at the door. The goon came pelting back. "No one."

"Good. Bring him and let's go."

The two bodyguards grabbed Logan's arms and made to pull him to his feet. For the first little bit, they actually lifted him to bring his bound hands clear of the chair back, but then they loosened their grip as they pulled him forward, away from the chair. They were unprepared for the dead weight Logan presented. His arms slipped out of their grasp, and he felt the jolt up his body as his knees hit the floor, then he pitched forward. But for a desperate effort to twist sideways, he would have crushed his glasses and probably broken his nose, but he landed partially on his right shoulder instead, the side of his head impacting a second after with lessened force.

There was a brief silence in the room, then a hand gripped his hair tightly and jerked him up so that he was gazing into Tallant's glaring face. "Look, friend, no matter how limp you go, we will still take you. Get up on your feet." Logan just stared at him for a second, slightly stunned by the fall. "Now!" Tallant growled.

"I can't," Logan said, his voice calm and cold, belying the roiling tumult of fear and anger in his gut.

"What?" Clearly Tallant hadn't been expecting any kind of resistance, not even the logical kind. "Get your ass up."

Logan hated admitting weakness at the best of times. He glowered at Tallant for forcing him to state it aloud. "My legs are paralyzed," he said flatly. "I can't walk."

Tallant didn't respond for a long second, then one of the goons spoke. "There is a wheelchair in the other room," he remarked.

"That would be mine," Logan said coldly.

"Get it," Tallant said, then he and the other goon lifted Logan back into the chair they'd pulled him from. Tallant stepped back and gave Logan a considering look. "So, Eyes Only is a paraplegic," he said in a tone that made Logan want to punch him. "Is that what made you take up the cause of truth, justice and the American way?"

Logan didn't reply, but the goon who wasn't fetching his wheelchair said, "That's Logan Cale, Jeff. He's been all over the news for the last couple of days."

"What?" Tallant's brows knit. "That rich guy who got kidnapped?"

"Yeah, he's paralyzed, too."

Logan grit his teeth and turned away. Tallant snorted. "Do you suppose we could collect the ransom, too?" he asked. His goons laughed, the one with the wheelchair had arrived in time to hear the conversation. "Where were they in that process?" Tallant asked. Logan assumed it was a rhetorical question until Tallant tapped him on the shoulder. Logan looked up at him in irritation. "Well?" he prompted.

"I have no idea," Logan said. "I wasn't exactly in the loop."

"No, I don't suppose you were," Tallant replied thoughtfully. "Get him into his wheelchair, boys."

"Untie me and I can manage it for myself," Logan said. For all the attention they paid him, he might as well not have spoken. At least these two weren't the Abbott and Costello of kidnappers. They got him into his chair with a minimum of fuss and bother, letting his hands fall behind the back. Once he was in position, his feet up on the rests, Tallant walked around behind Logan and put his hands on his shoulders. "Go ahead, boys, and make sure all the interested little heads stay behind the doors where they belong."

Logan was not a fan of being pushed in his chair. He was even less of a fan of being pushed by a man who was planning to sell him on to someone else after killing the guys who'd tried to sell him in the first place. That spoke of a certain cold-bloodedness that made Logan very uneasy. All the doors remained shut ahead of them as Tallant pushed him along. It didn't take long to get them to the elevator, and from there to the street was no more than twenty feet. On the street, passersby carefully did not see the pair of men guarded by the two guys with guns. Obviously, Uncle Jonas hadn't put out a reward for his rescue and the capture of his kidnappers. Not that Logan would have expected him to, but it might have been handy at this moment.

There was an expensive sedan outside the building, one with darkly tinted windows. One of the goons opened the rear door and they shifted Logan into the backseat. Tallant got in beside him and the two goons got into the front. Without his arms to steady himself, Logan tipped slowly over into the opposite door. The car started moving, and Logan wondered if he was going to get to make the whole trip with his face pressed against the armrest/ashtray combination.

"Take us home," Tallant said, and both the guys in the front seat sat a little straighter, half turning, as if they were surprised by this order. Logan wondered what that meant.

Gentle hands took his wrists and untied the bindings, then pulled him upright. Logan rubbed his wrists and got himself into a marginally comfortable position, a little farther away from his seatmate. He looked out the window and contemplated options. He could potentially wait until they were in a more populated area, then throw himself out the door. He dropped his eyes to where the handle should be and felt a chill in his gut. The handle was entirely absent.

"You won't be getting out of the car on your own, Logan," Tallant said, reaching out and fixing his collar. "Don't even think about it." Logan turned towards him and glared, but he didn't say anything. "What have they been doing with you? You smell rank."

"You would too if you'd been in a closet for . . . days." Logan looked out the window again, realizing that he still didn't know how long he'd been missing. It was hard to tell the time of day with the overcast, but it was clearly day time.

"They have to have let you out at least a few times," Tallant observed. Logan shrugged. "You don't stink quite that bad."

"Bathroom breaks, yeah," Logan said.

"They feed you?" Logan shrugged again, and Tallant handed him a bottle of water he pulled from a mini-fridge set into the seat between them. "We'll fix that when we get back to my place."

Logan took the water. He wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth. One swallow, though, and he knew he'd made a mistake. "What's in this?" he demanded.

"Drink it, Logan," Tallant said. "It won't hurt you."

Logan upended the bottle and poured it into the footwell. Tallant's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, forcing him to right the bottle, but then he took it from him and lowered the window on his side, dumping the rest of the liquid out into the street. "What was that?" Logan asked. His head felt a little buzzy already from whatever it was.

Tallant gave him a slight shrug. "Nothing much," he said. "Something to make it easier to get the able-bodied man I thought you were into my place without undue difficulties." Logan ground his teeth and looked out the window again. "I guess I don't really need that now, do I?" Logan didn't turn around. He heard the fridge door open again and felt Tallant press a fresh water bottle against his hand. "This one is clean," he said. "And you'll want water to flush what little of the drug you got in your system out quicker, I'm sure."

"Why would I believe you?" Logan demanded, turning on him.

Tallant took the bottle back, opened it, took a good-sized swallow, then held it out to him. "There, see? It's clean."

Logan was thirsty, and he did want to flush the crap out of his system. Not at all happy about the situation, he took the water bottle from Tallant, wiped the mouth ostentatiously with his sleeve, then took a swallow. Fresh, clear water, cold and quenching. He took another sip. The water he'd gotten from Deke had always been warm and had tasted of plastic bottle.

They drove on in silence, and Logan found himself wondering where Max was. This change made it one step harder to find him. Even if she managed to trace Deke and Jack, there was no one left to tell her who they'd sold him to. And when Tallant sent him on to whoever he was brokering the deal for, any chance of tracing his movements would undoubtedly be lost.

Max was superhuman, but she wasn't omniscient. And she wasn't a fool. She'd try to find him, he knew that, but even she would have to give up if the trail went dead.

He looked out the window. Life would go on. And he'd just have to believe that someone else would take his place in the fight for Seattle's freedom.

* * *

Max walked into the building like she belonged there. It was just an ordinary apartment building, and there was much to be said for confidence. Besides, she was a Jam Pony messenger and it could arguably be called business hours. She could always claim to be coming to pick up a package. She wanted the fifteenth floor, apartment B3. When she stepped off the elevator, something just felt wrong. The hallways were pretty clear for 6:30 in the morning. She could almost sense people hiding in their apartments, and her pace quickened. The door was closed, but when she tried the handle, it wasn't locked. She opened the door and stepped quickly inside, shutting it behind her. There was no one in the front room, and minimal furniture. There was a couch piled high with women's clothing on hangers, a coffee table and a couple of chairs. Three doors let out of the room, all closed. This was supposed to be Jack's sister's apartment, and she worked at the psych hospital, one week on, one week off. When she was on, she basically lived at the hospital, which left the apartment open for whatever Jack wanted to do. That was, at least, according to her informant, now sleeping off her persuasion in an alley. She doubted his friends had found him yet.

The first of the three doors swung open onto a postage-stamp kitchen. Empty of people. The second let into a bathroom, also empty. The third . . . she stared at the contents of that room for a long moment, her jaw setting with fury. It was the room from the 'proof of life' video, but a few things had changed. A straight-back chair stood empty in the middle of the room with a TV on a cart a few feet behind it. There was a bed to the right, and a door to the left. Thus far, it was the same, but now two men lay dead on the floor on either side of the chair. The TV was on rather than off, showing the blue screen of an inactive video machine. The key difference . . . Logan did not appear to be present.

She walked up and looked at the men's faces. Deke lay on his back to the left of the chair, a shotgun fallen beside him. Jack lay slightly in front of the chair. He'd fallen half on his face, but she could tell it was him without touching the body. But the thing that pissed her off the most was that she could still smell the gun powder in the air. She squatted and touched Jack's cheek. The body was almost normal human temperature. Deke's was, too, and she stood up, looking around in grim anger.

The door to the left was closed. She walked over and opened it, knowing it was empty before she did so. Nevertheless, a whiff of pure Logan scent filled her nostrils. An empty bottle of water lay on its side on the floor, and she knew abruptly that the bastards had been keeping Logan in that tiny space ever since they took him.

They were dead already, damn it, and there was no one else here. She walked over to the TV and pressed play on the DVD player. It was a recording of an Eyes Only broadcast. She popped the disk out then made a whirlwind search of the rest of the apartment, taking every disk she found. Then she heard distant sirens and decided to make a quick, quiet exit via the fire escape.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Farrah, I _love_ cherries! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Farrah! Happy birthday to you!

"Max?" Reagan Ronald repeated. Matt nodded, keeping his expression impassive. "She's an irresponsible, disrespectful slacker, just like everyone else around here. Why, what's she done?"

"Nothing that I'm aware of," Matt said. "Are you aware of her relationship with Logan Cale?"

"I don't pay the slightest attention to their personal lives, except when they –" Ronald broke off when Matt put a picture of Logan on his counter. "Oh, wheelchair guy? Yeah, he shows up from time to time, distracts her from her job. Why, what's he done?"

A black man with a faint aroma of pot clinging to his person walked up. "Here you go, Normal," he said in Jamaican accent.

Ronald took a signed receipt from him and handed him a package. "Hot run, Herbal. Don't know what made that one take so long, but this one is time sensitive. Bip bip bip."

"Ya, mon, got it," Herbal said, and he wandered off towards the lockers.

"Normal?" Matt repeated.

"I told you, disrespectful. That's what they call me."

Matt nodded slowly. "I see."

"So, what's wheelchair guy gotten Max into?" Normal asked.

"Logan Cale has been abducted. We're just looking into his associates."

"If you thing Max has something to with an abduction, you're wrong," Normal said, and Matt tilted his head curiously. "She's a disrespectful slacker, but she's not a kidnapper. Is there anything else? I've got work to do."

"I'm just going to talk to her friends here. Can you point me to them?"

"Again, their personal lives are there own."

Matt was beginning to get a picture of how this man thought. "Yes, but surely you've noticed who she tends to slack off with."

"When you put it that way," Normal said. "Yeah, Cynthia McEachin, Herbal Thought, and Calvin Theodore."

"Herbal . . ." Matt looked over at the man by the lockers. "Isn't that the man you just sent out?"

"Yeah. Don't delay him too long. He's got work to do."

Matt walked over to the lockers. "Herbal Thought?" he asked.

"Ya, mon?" the man said, looking up from where he was talking to a woman and a man.

Taking a wild guess, Matt said, "Are you two Cynthia McEachin and Calvin Theodore?"

The woman gave him a guarded once over and nodded, her expression telling him plainly what she thought of cops. Her skin was the color of creamy mocha, her hair was a little bit wild, and her fashion sense reminded him of Max. The other man was white and nervous-looking. He nodded, wide-eyed. "I'm Detective Matt Sung. I'm investigating the disappearance of Logan Cale." He resisted the urge to call him 'wheelchair guy,' reflecting that Normal had respect issues of his own.

"What do you want to talk to us for?" McEachin demanded brusquely. "We got nothin' to do with that."

"Standard procedure, checking into the backgrounds of the victim's known associates," Matt said. It was actually pretty stupid, all told. Logan had obviously been a target of opportunity, not one of intent, but procedure was procedure, and the Cale family was pushing hard. "What can you tell me about Max Guevara and her relationship with Logan Cale?"

"She dotes on that boy," McEachin said. "And he seems pretty stuck on her. You gonna find him?"

"We're going to try," Matt said. "How long has she been seeing Mr. Cale?"

"Original Cindy doesn't know that she's 'seeing' him now," McEachin said. "What's that got to do with some jackasses taking him out of his own apartment?"

"This is standard procedure, Miss McEachin."

"Don't you 'Miss McEachin' Original Cindy," the woman retorted, and Matt raised his eyebrows. "Max has been hanging with Logan for maybe three months now, off and on."

"Has she had any particular money needs recently?"

"Sure –" Theodore started to say, but the woman calling herself Original Cindy gave him fist in the ribs.

"Sketchy!" she hissed balefully, and the man's eyes grew wary.

"– but who hasn't? I mean, bad economy, you know . . ."

"Max is a good person," Herbal said. "She would not harm a fly that did not deserve it."

"Do you think she'd think Logan Cale deserved to be harmed?" Matt asked.

"In no way. My sista' loves that mon."

Matt heard an unexpected voice behind him. "Normal!" called Max. "I need to take a personal day." He turned and saw Max at the window talking to Reagan Ronald.

"Missing boyfriends do not constitute adequate excuse for –" Normal started, but then he seemed to catch an expression on Max's face. "Fine, little missy, if you must. But people who want to keep jobs actually come to them and work."

"Thanks, Normal, you're a pal." She turned towards the lockers and spotted Matt. Eyes widening, she strode over. "What are you doing here, Detective Sung?" she asked.

"Apparently it's 'standard procedure' to find out if the victim's girlfriend might have had a hand in kidnapping him," Original Cindy said in a sarcastic voice.

"Oh, right," Max said. "Great."

"May I speak with you privately, Miss Guevara?"

"Sure," Max said, and her friends made themselves scarce, leaving the two of them alone amid the lockers. "What?"

"Did you learn anything in the process of freeing Shannon McKinnon?" he asked.

"Yeah, I learned where Deke and Jack were keeping him. You're probably going to get a call any minute."

"So you found him?"

"No, they're dead –"

"Did you –?"

She rolled her eyes. "They were dead when I got there. Someone else took him from them," she said, and her expression was dark with anger. "You'll see when you get there. I took everything that might have pointed to . . ." She shrugged, not finishing the statement.

"Good. You leave anything behind?"

"Nope. Just two cooling corpses that were still body temperature when I got there. I was close."

Matt grimaced. "Shit. Does Bling know?"

"Came here so I could keep my job. Next stop is to figure out who all might have had reason and opportunity to make the purchase without paying for it."

"The apartment's been cleared, Miss Guevara," he said, noticing that one of the patrolmen on the case was approaching from behind her. "So if any of your things are still there, you're welcome to go back for them now."

"Thank you," she said.

"Detective? We got a call."

Max turned, her eyes widening and her expression converting to the sweet creature she'd seemed at the apartment on the previous evening. "Did you find him? Is he okay? Is there any news?"

Matt put a hand on her shoulder. "Someone will contact you when we know anything, Miss Guevara," he said, and he followed Sgt. Jenkins out.

"She's sure taking it hard," Jenkins said. "I didn't learn anything to her detriment. You?"

"Not a thing. I think she's what she seems to be, a distraught girlfriend."

"Why a girl who looks like that would be with a guy like him, I don't know."

This wasn't the first time Jenkins or one of the others had made that remark, and Matt bit down on the automatic response that there were other reasons than sex or money for two people to spend time together. None of his colleagues would understand that.

* * *

Max watched Detective Sung go, feigning frustration at the lack of news. No one should be able to guess that she knew exactly where they were going. Her jaw tightened.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump, and she looked into Original Cindy's worried eyes. "Girl, what was that about?" Cindy asked.

Max turned wide eyes on her. "I don't know what you mean," she said innocently.

"Max!" Cindy exclaimed, and Max sobered instantly.

"I was at Logan's place last night when the cops showed up. If I'd acted like me, I'd still be at the station answering questions, so I gave them a taste of –"

"Maggie? I got that," Cindy said. She put her hands on Max's shoulders, giving her a sober look. "How you holding up, Boo? I went by to check on you last night and you weren't home."

The question and the concern in Cindy's eyes came close to shaking Max's self control, and that just pissed her off even more than she already was. She couldn't afford to let go of that anger in public. "I'm fine," she said impatiently, and she pulled away from Cindy's grasp. Herbal and Sketchy were hovering beyond her, but Max ignored them as she passed, catching up her bike and mounting before she even left the warehouse. She heard Normal's testy voice calling after her, but she didn't give a shit what he wanted.

She rode straight to Logan's building where she knew she'd find Bling. He'd be able to help her, she hoped. Logan's computer was their best hope for finding out where to go next. Up in the elevator, disregarding the curiosity and compassion in the eyes of the residents she passed, she let herself into Logan's apartment and leaned back against the door. Alone in the front hall, away from the pressure of other people's eyes, she found that the damage inflicted to her self control by Original Cindy's sympathy had not been corrected by leaving Cindy behind. She slammed her fists against the door and stalked forward into the apartment.

Bling emerged from the office doorway, looking anxious. He stopped when he saw her. "What did you find?" he asked.

"I was too late," she said angrily. "He was already gone."

"You don't mean he . . . he's not dead, is he?"

She shook her head curtly. "I don't think so," she said, but the thought, now brought up, would not be banished. "I found where they were keeping him, but I was ten, maybe fifteen minutes too late. They were gone and I . . . I know he was there, Bling. I could smell him."

"What did the bastards say?" Bling asked.

"Not much," she replied with a snort. "Whoever took Logan killed them instead of paying them."

"Son of a bitch," Bling muttered. "Does Matt know?"

"He was at Jam Pony when I went to get a personal day." She pushed past him into the office. "We have to find out who took him, Bling. We have to find him."

Bling walked over and sat down in the chair in front of the computer. He shook his head. "I'm not as good –"

"I don't know what he has access to," Max snapped. "You do." She jotted down the street address of Jack's sister's building. "Can we hack into the traffic cameras? Or maybe the cameras on the building?"

"I . . ." Bling gazed pensively at the address, then started working. Max went to the kitchen and surveyed the food in the fridge. She pulled out deli meat and cheese and put together a plate of sandwiches. Chomping on one, she carried the sandwiches into the office, a couple of sodas held under her arm. "I've found something," Bling said as she entered the room.

"What?" she asked, pulling up a stool that the cops must have brought in here from another room.

"Here." He pressed a button and a video began to play. Two men with guns emerged from the front of the building. A moment later, another man came out as well pushing Logan in his chair, and Bling highlighted his face. "I know who this is, but only because Logan told me a couple of months back."

"Who is he?"

"Jeffrey Tallant. He's a middleman, he makes deals for other people."

"So he may have picked Logan up at a bargain rate to sell him to someone else?"

"Yeah," Bling said, and Max could tell that the thought left as nasty a taste in his mouth as it did in hers. "Trouble is, Logan couldn't locate his address, or even any place where he stayed."

"What about the license plate?" Max asked. "That's got to be attached to something, somewhere."

Bling shook his head and zoomed in as the car pulled away. "See?" Max glared at the fuzzy rectangle. "There's a special paint that makes the license plate unreadable by cameras. It's supposed to be illegal, but if you put money in the right hands, nothing happens."

"Like everything," Max growled. "There's got to be some way to trace him."

"I'm open to suggestion."

Max bit her lip and stared hard at the screen. "What about his associates?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Farrah, I hope it's okay that there wasn't any Logan POV this time. Worry not. There will be lots more.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

The car pulled into the lowest floor of what used to be a high-rise office building, and Logan looked around. He could see the remnants of desks and artwork against the walls, but a ramp had been built out of rubble packed tight that led them to the second floor. He blinked. "Elevator broken?" he asked.

"The elevator works fine," Tallant said. "As far as the second floor. The ground floor is merely an entrance."

A garage-sized door opened on a row of offices and the car pulled into it. From inside, it looked fortified. No wonder he'd never been able to trace Tallant to his resting place. He was a squatter on a serious scale. The door closed down with a solid thud and the driver turned the engine off. Logan looked around nervously. "What now?"

"Don't worry, Logan," Tallant said, and then he got out of the car. Logan clasped his hands together and pressed his thumbs to his lips, taking a deep breath to call up his best sarcastic demeanor. He was going to have to hold it like a shield, the way Max did, to survive whatever was coming. The door beside him opened to reveal one of the guards. Tallant stood a little ways off, the wheelchair in front of him.

The guard leaned in and put his arms out towards Logan. He raised his hands to ward him off. "I can do it myself," he said.

"Let Morgan do his job," Tallant said.

"I don't need –" Morgan apparently lost his patience, because he just surged forward and seized Logan under the arms, pulling him out of the car and depositing him in the chair. The thump was gentler than Logan expected given the rough and ready treatment. He reached down for the rims automatically. "Where to?"

"I'll push you," Tallant replied.

"I can do it myself," Logan retorted.

"But you're not going to," Tallant said softly. Logan didn't remove his hands from the rims. "Do I have to tie them again?" Tallant asked.

Clenching his teeth, Logan put his hands in his lap. Morgan led the way across a concrete floor towards the elevator, and stopped to punch in a security code on a panel next to the doors. Tallant pushed him along behind. Not only did Logan hate the sensation of being out of control of his own movement, this chair didn't have handles, which made pushing it awkward and being pushed in it uncomfortable.

The elevator had clearly not been altered since the Pulse. The walls were dirty beige and showed signs of any number of activities taking place within them – or against them. It didn't smell, though, which sort of suggested that it had been cleaned afterwards. Morgan pushed the button for 23, and the elevator started up. It didn't sound altogether happy about it, which had Logan eying the ceiling nervously. It was fast, though. In no time flat, the doors were opening onto a utilitarian landing with a pair of heavy duty doors about ten feet off.

Tallant pushed Logan forward towards the doors and Morgan went ahead, unlocked them and pushed them open. They opened like a bank vault, and Logan swallowed nervously. Beyond the doors lay a luxurious hallway. Lush black carpeting covered the floor, and the walls were bright white with Japanese-style prints in black and red and white. They turned right into an apartment. The room opening off the hall was very stylized. A square crimson rug lay on the black carpet diagonally under a cluster of furniture. The upholstery on the chairs and the sofa was black, as was the coffee table. An ebony statue of a samurai stood on a red plinth in a niche that was lit indirectly.

Logan looked around at the extremely dramatic room and wondered why the man had brought him to his home. It seemed an odd choice, somehow. Presumably, he didn't advertise where he lived to his customers, so why would he give a roadmap to merchandise he intended to sell?

"Get him cleaned up," Tallant said, and he strode away down a hallway.

Morgan waited till he was out of earshot, then said, "This way, Mr. Cale."

Logan looked at him, a little startled, then took command of his chair and followed Morgan. They followed a different hallway into what looked like a home gym. Against one wall, there was a BowFlex, a treadmill and a stair stepper. A flat screen TV hung on the opposite wall, and there were a couple of benches and what looked like a massage table.

Beyond that room was a bathroom with a large, glass-walled shower and an enormous tub that looked like it might have whirlpool jets. "I'm guessing you'll do better in the tub till we have some kind of chair for you in the shower," Morgan said, and Logan nodded uncertainly. "How much help do you need?"

Logan swallowed uncomfortably, gazing at the deep tub. He couldn't possibly get up the steps to the level of the tub on his own. "If you can just help me into the tub, I can manage."

"Do you need help getting undressed?"

Logan shook his head and started peeling off his shirt. He didn't like the situation, but he really, really wanted to be clean. He couldn't smell himself anymore, but his skin itched. "What . . . what day is it?" he asked.

"Friday, approximately 8 a.m.," Morgan said without hesitation, looking up from where he was running water into the tub.

Logan froze briefly, the shirt still in his hands, then he offered it to Morgan, not sure he should just drop it on the pristine floor. Morgan took it and threw it in something that looked less like a laundry bin and more like a trash can. Logan didn't much care. He pulled off his pants. He didn't know that he'd ever want to wear clothes he'd marinated in for two days again anyway. He stopped when he was down to boxers. The water flowed at a pretty good clip, but it would still take awhile for the tub to fill to a reasonable level.

Morgan rose and said, "I'll be back momentarily, Mr. Cale." Then he left the room.

Logan wasn't altogether sure what to make of the formality – or the sudden minor independence he was being graced with. He rolled himself over to the cabinets and opened the ones he could reach. Sweats, towels, nothing particularly useful. Nothing like a phone, for instance. He went into the gym room. No phone there, either. The days of phones in every room of a house had pretty much died with all the wiring that had melted inside walls. He heard muted footsteps in the hall outside and glanced up as Morgan re-entered the room. The man gave him an indifferent look and walked past into the bathroom. "Water's ready, Mr. Cale," he called.

Logan went back into the bathroom, removed his boxers and let Morgan help him into the tub. The water was a good temperature, and it was only about belly button deep. Using the soap provided, he did the best job he could at getting clean. Morgan offered what help was needed in a completely impersonal way, which made accepting it a lot easier. Drying off was more of a challenge because there was nowhere good to sit for the process. Again, Morgan helped in a clinical fashion, then provided him with a pair of fresh boxers that were only a little too big. Then, instead of putting him back in his chair, Morgan picked him up, his legs dangling over one arm while his back was cradled by the other.

"What are you doing?" Logan asked. Morgan was certainly strong. Logan wasn't a small man by any means, and he knew what he weighed. Despite that, Morgan didn't seem to have the slightest trouble toting him around.

"Orders," Morgan said without further explanation. He carried Logan into the gym, settled him on the massage table and walked out.

Logan wished there was even a sheet on the massage table for him to cover up with, but there was nothing. He found being unclothed disturbing to begin with, and the room was slightly chill. He crossed his arms uneasily, wondering what possible reason there could be for this display. Finally, he heard footsteps again, more this time. Tallant walked in, followed by Morgan. "And there are more bruises, sir, on his hips and buttocks."

Logan leaned back involuntarily upon Tallant's entrance and had to catch himself when his balance went. Morgan hurried forward and steadied him. Logan looked up at him, his reaction less gratitude than puzzlement. What the hell was going on here?

"Careful, Logan," Tallant said. "I don't want you getting any more banged up than you already are." He walked over and looked down at Logan's legs. "Can't you feel any of that?" he asked. Logan looked down at the mottled skin and shook his head. Tallant looked over at Morgan, who had stepped back once Logan was steady. "How bad are the bruises I can't see? What kind of bruises?"

"Nothing to worry about," Morgan said. "It looks like the sellers were clumsy with him is all."

Tallant nodded and Morgan left the room. Logan watched uneasily as Tallant hooked a rolling stool over and sat down in front of him. "How are you feeling, Logan?" he asked. "Are you more hungry or more tired?"

Logan shrugged. He'd gone past hungry into a sort of empty feeling in his gut, and while he was tired, he doubted very much that he'd be able to sleep easily, not with his adrenaline amped up the way it was. "Can I have some clothes?" he asked.

"Shortly," Tallant said. He lifted Logan's left leg, and Logan leaned back on his hands again, to keep his balance. "Do you need a backrest?" Tallant asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm good," Logan said. "What are you –" He broke off as Tallant began to lightly stroke up his leg. "What the hell is this?" he asked.

"Just checking out the merchandise," Tallant said with an odd look. "I'm curious how high the lack of sensation goes."

Logan closed his eyes and looked away. So this was more of the morbid curiosity he got whenever he went out. The only difference was that Tallant had the power to poke and prod him at will. After a moment, Logan leaned forward, took his thigh in both hands and pulled his leg out of Tallant's grasp. "All the way up," he gritted, putting his leg down again. "And I'm not an interactive museum display, thank you very much."

Tallant gazed up at him thoughtfully. "You're a proud man," he said, and Logan grimaced. "I can respect that, but –"

"So, who are you going to sell me to?" Logan asked, cutting across whatever crap he was spouting. "Or does that get to be a surprise?"

Tallant smiled. "I'm not."

Logan didn't understand the response. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"I'm not going to sell you," Tallant replied, shrugging. "That's why I killed those two, though if I'd realized how badly they'd marked you up, I would have killed them for the fun of it."

Logan stared at him. "What kind of joke is this?" he asked. "Of course, you're going to sell me. Why else would you . . ." He trailed off under the amused look Tallant was giving him. "What?"

Tallant rose, the amused smile still in place. "I'll have breakfast served in a few moments. In the meantime, you look cold. I'll have Morgan bring some clothes in for you." Tallant walked out, and Morgan walked in almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting. He put a pile of fabric down on the massage table next to Logan, then went into the bathroom.

Logan pulled the clothes as quickly as possible, not paying a lot of attention to them except as covering. Tallant's behavior was alarming him because he truly did not understand what was going on. What could he want if he wasn't selling him? Information? That was the most likely alternative. Logan allowed Morgan to deposit him in his chair, then looked up. "Can you tell me what's going on here?" he asked.

"I don't think I'd better," Morgan said. "The boss will want to tell you in his own way."

Logan blinked at him for a moment, then wheeled himself to the door. "Which way?" he asked.

"Left," Morgan said. Logan turned left and wheeled deeper into the apartment. He passed a couple of doors, but Morgan didn't say anything so he didn't pause. Finally, they reached an open archway on the right, and Morgan said, "Turn in here." Logan did so, and found himself in a kitchen that was all shiny black appliances and white walls. The cookware was red enamel, and the backsplash of the sink and counters had occasional red tiles among the white. Logan was sensing a trend.

The second bodyguard was cooking, and the smell of sausage, eggs and pancakes filled the room. Tallant awaited him at a black table that stood against the back wall of the kitchen, under broad windows. Logan didn't immediately cross the room, and Tallant came to fetch him. Made uneasy by the odd currents he was sensing, Logan didn't object to being pushed to sit at the black table opposite the red painted chair. The chair that would ordinarily occupy the space he was taking had been pushed back against the wall behind him. Logan looked down at the white placemat and tried to marshal his thoughts.

Tallant had a laptop computer at his own place, and he returned to work without speaking, leaving Logan to look out the window and wonder what was going on. The cook delivered a plate to Logan, and he looked down at the meal. It was nicely presented, represented all of the major food groups, and Logan was suddenly starving. He took a deep breath and began to eat.

Morgan had vanished as soon as he'd delivered Logan. The second man disappeared as soon as the food was presented. For a while, Tallant continued to work while Logan ate. Logan wondered what he was doing, but he could hardly peek in any subtle way.

"Fascinating reading," Tallant said when Logan was almost done eating. Logan looked up, not certain what to say to that. Tallant smiled. "Your life does make fascinating reading – that is when looked at in the light of Eyes Only."

Logan swallowed a suddenly very dry bite. "What are you talking about?"

"That chair, for instance, your legs – you got them in your pursuit of truth, justice and the American way. How heroic is that?" Tallant's tone was full of irony.

Logan's hands fisted on his silverware, and he forced himself to put them down. "I don't like being made fun of," he said levelly.

"I'm not making fun," Tallant replied, closing his computer and looking across the table at Logan. "I think all you've done is enormously heroic. Ultimately pointless, but nevertheless, heroic. Still, most of the time, heroism is ultimately pointless, and it tends to get the heroes killed."

"There is nothing pointless in the pursuit of freedom," Logan said flatly.

"And you would gladly die for the cause, no doubt," Tallant said, still with that ironic lilt in his voice.

"Not gladly," Logan countered. "Speaking of pointless, why exactly am I here? If you don't intend to sell me, what do you want from me? By now the informant net is so many disorganized bits of data, so there's no information to gain."

"You underestimate your memory, I'm sure," Tallant said. "Are you finished?"

Logan looked down at the food on his plate. "Yeah. I'm done."

"Morgan?" Tallant barely raised his voice, but Morgan emerged from the hallway almost instantly. "Would you move Logan out onto the couch?"

Morgan came towards Logan, but wary of being pushed, Logan wheeled back from the table himself. Morgan glanced at Tallant, then turned and led the way. Logan followed him back out into the front room. Onto the couch was an unsubtle instruction. Logan wheeled straight over to the couch and set the brake, shifting himself into the position he thought he'd be most comfortable in. It was a small statement of control, but it made him feel marginally better. Without a word, Morgan released the brake and moved the wheelchair out of reach.

Logan had wedged himself into the corner of the sofa, his legs extending along the length of it. He only realized that he'd put his back to the door when he felt hands land on his shoulders. "Interesting choice," Tallant said, giving Logan's shoulders a squeeze. He walked around the sofa, lifted Logan's feet and sat down, lowering Logan's feet into his lap.

Logan hadn't expected that. He wanted to pull his feet back, but the proprietary way Tallant put his hands down on them made that seem like a poor choice, not to mention challenging. "I'm quite certain that you remember more than you realize," Tallant said after a moment. He started pushing Logan's pants legs up.

"What are you doing?" Logan asked.

"Relax," Tallant said. He began stroking Logan's calves, which was creepy on several levels. "It seems so odd to know that you can't feel this."

Logan shuddered slightly. "It's odd for me, too. Why are you . . . what do you want?"

Tallant didn't speak for several moments, seeming far too focused on Logan's feet and legs. Logan didn't quite know what to say beyond what he'd already said, so he just clenched his hands together and tried to pretend he didn't have a strange man touching him where he couldn't feel it. He looked away, but he couldn't turn far enough not to see the hands on his feet.

"You want to know why you're here?" Tallant asked, his voice suddenly brisk again. He tugged Logan's pants legs down and gave him a sober look. "There are a number of reasons, but the most important is information."

"I already told you, by now the net has been destroyed, so –"

"I don't want your net, Logan, I want you," Tallant said. His black eyes were piercing, and Logan knit his brows, not understanding what he meant. "I want those brains of yours working for me."

"Working for you?" Logan shook his head. "Not happening."

Tallant ignored the statement. "You won't need your network of secret informants. I have plenty of people who can verify information on the ground, some of them in higher positions than you'd ever be able to access. No, what I need is you, putting that information together, sorting through data and making connections."

Logan reached forward and, gripping the fabric of his pants, plucked his feet out of Tallant's lap. He pulled his legs up to his chest and held them there, glaring at Tallant over his knees. "I won't work for you," he said.

Tallant smiled at him. "Oh, I think you will."

"Absolutely not."

"We should get started, in fact." Tallant pulled out a digital voice recorder. "Tell me everything you know about Arnold Elkins."

Logan shook his head. Arnold Elkins was the mayor's chief assistant, and Logan knew a fair amount about him, but there was no way he was telling Tallant anything. "I told you, I won't work for you."

Tallant didn't seem in the least put out. He tilted his head. "We've established that you will die for your cause," he said, "though not gladly." The ironic lilt was back, and Logan clenched his fists in the loose fabric of his pants. Tallant's smile twitched at Logan's reaction. "The next question is whether you would lead others to die for your cause. I suspect the answer is yes, if they were willing participants, able to choose for themselves." Logan looked towards the ceiling, not really sure what the point of this oration was, wishing he was somewhere else. "However, I suspect you'd draw the line at the death of innocents."

This brought Logan's attention sharply into focus. His eyes flashed down to Tallant's. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Tallant shrugged. "You say you won't provide me with information about Arnold Elkins, who, I believe we both can agree, is a very bad man." Here he paused, as if waiting for Logan's response. Logan reluctantly nodded. "I would use this information to his detriment, and I fail to see how that's a bad thing, but I guess you have your principles and must abide by them."

"I still don't understand where you're going with this," Logan said uneasily. He had a guess, and he didn't like where his thoughts were leading him.

"What if I were to send Morgan out to pick up a child?" Logan went so still that he stopped breathing for several seconds, and Tallant's smile grew edged. "In this neighborhood, it shouldn't be difficult to find one that's not being adequately supervised, one that few will miss, certainly no one whom the police will listen to. Do you think the child will understand that it's dying for a principle? Would even understand this principle of yours? I very much doubt it." He shook his head, the smile unchanging. "No, the child will merely know that it's being beaten to death while two men watch."

Logan just stared at him. "You wouldn't," he breathed.

"Morgan?" Logan looked up dumbly as the man walked into the room. "Go out into the streets and fetch me a child. Make it a girl, six or seven, and make sure she won't be missed." Morgan started towards the front doors, but paused to open a closet door.

"I don't believe you," Logan said. "This is a show." After putting on his coat, Morgan pulled out a pair of gloves and drew them on, then he took a hat down from a shelf.

"It's not," Tallant replied. "If you don't say something, he will go find a child, and then it will be too late to change your mind."

"You're bluffing."

Tallant looked away, glancing around at the room. "I can't afford for too much to be known about this place," he said. "My neighbors know only that I have claimed this building for myself and that I drive a nice car." Logan couldn't take his eyes off Morgan as he reached into the closet and pulled something else out. It looked like a canvas bag large enough for a small child.

"You're not serious," Logan said, but as he spoke, he watched Morgan close the closet door and start towards the front doors, tucking the canvas bag into a capacious pocket of his jacket. Logan jerked his eyes back to his captor's face. "Tallant?"

"Call me Jeff," Tallant said, and Logan gaped at him. "Are you going to let him go? Because if he brings a child back, I'll have to have her killed." He reached forward and put a hand on Logan's knee. "At that point, the only choice you'll have is whether it's quick or slow."

The expression in his eyes was what convinced Logan, that and Morgan's automatic obedience. "Stop him," Logan said.

"Are you sure? I can't help wondering if you need an object lesson."

Logan took in a deep breath. "Arnold Webster Elkins is 48 years old. He has three major vices that I know of –"

Tallant raised his hand to cut off the flow of information, and Logan broke off. "Morgan? I won't be needing the child after all." Morgan closed the front door, and Logan felt himself relaxing ever so slightly. "Not yet." This brought Logan's eyes back up to Tallant's. "It's easy to control a hero, Logan. Surely you knew that." He reached forward and chucked Logan under the chin. Logan jerked back and Tallant laughed. "All too easy." He turned on the recorder. "Now, please, begin again."

Feeling utterly helpless and hopeless, Logan started listing off the facts of Arnold Elkins' life.


	9. Chapter 9

Max shook her head. "Even I'm not this far off the grid," she said irritably. "There has got to be some way to track this guy."

There was a noise behind her, but she just glanced around. They were expecting Sung. He walked in, looking dour. "Good luck on that. We've been trying for years."

"Some of you have been trying," Bling retorted grimly. "Some of you have been getting paid."

"Don't remind me," Sung said sourly. "The video evidence has been wiped, by the way."

"We've got it here if that would help," Bling said.

"It would just vanish again," Sung replied. "And without that evidence, the higher ups have decided to wait and see if there's another ransom demand. They say it's all we can do."

"What, does this Tallant guy have more pull than the Cales?" Max demanded.

Sung shrugged. "The Cales aren't pulling very hard."

Max had been slouching against the desk, gripping the thinning shield that held her anger at bay, but this news broke through with a vengeance. She stood up straight. "They're what?"

Bling sighed. "Logan doesn't get on too well with his family."

"So what?" Max asked. "They're family! That's how it's supposed to work."

Bling shook his head. "Supposed to, yeah, but it doesn't always."

"You don't have a family, Max?"

Max just glared at him. Any one of her brothers and sisters would kill to save the others. Any one of them would die to save the others. The idea that Logan's family weren't trying very hard to get him back made her want to go find each and every one of them and smash important body parts.

"Have you got anything, Matt?" Bling asked.

"Just a few names you might not have," Sung said, dropping a sheet of paper down on the desk. "And you don't want to know what I had to do to get them."

"I don't care what you had to do," Max said, peering over Bling's shoulder. "Anything new?"

"Three names I didn't have before," Bling said. "Let's plug them in."

* * *

When Logan was done talking about Elkins, he felt drained. He rested his forehead on his knees and tried to come up with ways out of here that he could manage on his own. The list was short, and all of the ideas he came up with involved having control either over his wheelchair or a phone. Thus far, however, he had yet to see a phone, and his wheelchair was currently ten feet away, which, with other people in the room, might as well be a mile.

"You didn't mention his wife and three sons," Tallant said after several seconds.

Logan looked up to find Tallant gazing thoughtfully at him. "That's not the kind of thing I spend a lot of time worrying about," he said with a shrug. "His kids are too young to be involved in anything illegal, and I've never seen a hint of wrongdoing on his wife's part. I'm not even sure she's aware of his extracurricular activities."

"But wives and kids make good leverage, Logan. You know that."

"I've never seen any sign, either, that he's being coerced into his –"

"That's not what I mean," Tallant said, cutting him off.

Logan grimaced. "I know," he admitted.

Tallant scooted over to him on the sofa. "You look tired, Logan. I'm sure you got very little rest with Tweedledum and Tweedledee. I've got some work to do, so why don't you take a nap?"

"I'm really not sure I could sleep," Logan replied.

Tallant sighed and shook his head. "It's not altogether a suggestion."

Logan closed his eyes and scowled. "I see."

"Morgan will see to you, and we'll wake you for a late lunch." Tallant leaned in and gave Logan a kiss on the forehead, then he got up and left the room. Logan touched the spot on his forehead where the other man's lips had touched and shuddered, not wanting to think about what the gesture implied.

Morgan walked up and scooped Logan into his arms. "What about the chair?" he asked.

"You won't need it while you sleep," Morgan said.

"What if I wake up and need to go to the bathroom?"

"You won't wake up," Morgan replied, and Logan knew for certain that he was going to be drugged. "We'll stop by the bathroom first."

Logan suffered the indignity of being placed on the toilet at someone else's convenience, and then Morgan carried him into a bedroom. The bed was a very high four poster, about three feet off the ground. He propped himself up on his hands. "How is this administered?" he asked. At the same moment, Morgan presented him with a steaming mug that smelled of chocolate. "We can't go a little more straightforward? A pill or a syringe?"

Morgan shrugged. "It comes in liquid form. Instructions are to put it in a warm beverage."

"Oh." Grimacing, Logan took the cup and stared at it. "I suppose if I don't drink it, you're going to pour it down me."

"I'd really rather not," Morgan replied.

Reflecting that it was sort of weird to feel like he was sparing his captor's discomfort, Logan drank the chocolate down and gave the mug back. He flopped down flat and stared at the ceiling. "How . . . how long . . ."

"Not long," Morgan said, and it sounded like he was talking from miles away.

* * *

Hands shook Logan's shoulders, waking him from a dream of hiking through the mountains with a woman . . . he thought it might have been Max. He pushed the hands away and propped himself up on his elbows, looking around the unfamiliar room. Compared to the public rooms, this was a fairly ordinary bedroom. Antique bed, wardrobes, still very dramatic but less stylized.

"Lunch time?" he asked.

Morgan nodded. "Do you need the bathroom?" he asked.

Logan flushed with humiliation. "Yes," he said curtly. Morgan was matter of fact and entirely impersonal, but there was something Logan found utterly degrading about having to be helped in his most basic bodily functions. When his clothes were straight, his hands were washed, and Morgan was carrying him again, he said, "If I had my chair, none of that would have been necessary."

"I know, Mr. Cale," Morgan said. "But I have my orders."

Which were apparently meant to show Logan the true extent of his dependency on others. Acid anger burned in his gut. "Do you always follow your orders?" he asked.

"Nearly always," Morgan replied. He carried Logan through the front room where he saw his wheelchair still standing against the wall, neatly tucked out of the way. Past the gym, past the kitchen, past several more closed doors, they entered an airy room that was set up like a den. It had a sectional sofa in it, a television, shelves with books, and several large skylights over a wall of windows. The clocks in the room said it was just past two. The color scheme was still the red and black and white, but the furniture itself was less formal. Logan wondered how the hell Tallant had gotten all of this up here without the neighbors knowing exactly what was in this building.

Morgan put Logan down on a recliner and brought up the footrest to support his legs. Then he placed a tray table over Logan's lap and served him a hamburger with fries and a salad on the side. The moment he smelled the food, he was hungry, but he didn't really want to eat. "Where's . . . Jeff?" he asked.

"Getting cleaned up after his meeting," Morgan said. "He'll join you in an hour or so. Would you like a book? A newspaper?"

Logan took the newspaper and the TV remote from Morgan and the . . . bodyguard . . . butler . . . major domo . . . left the room. Headline on the front page read "McKinnon Daughters Found." He read the article underneath the header and found it illuminating. The fact that Shannon and Molly were safe and at home relieved him, but he had strong suspicions that Max was deeply involved in that situation. Another smaller header told him that the Cale kidnapping was still being investigated, and that Logan Cale was still missing. He turned to other news and found all the familiar misinformation presented as fact and tossed the paper aside. Not even the comics were funny, censored as they were.

How far away was his wheelchair now, he wondered. Had they walked forty feet down that hall? Fifty? How long would it take him to drag himself that far? Could he do it without someone noticing? Logan snorted humorlessly. Could he do it without someone tripping over him was the more operative question. He turned on the TV to see whether there was anything worth watching on and found a movie that he liked. _The Ghost and the Darkness_ , with Michael Douglas and that guy who played Batman once. It was only a few minutes in, so he sat back and watched, trying to lose himself in a world that was long since gone.

When the movie ended, he turned off the TV and found himself with an empty plate in a darkened room. The days were getting shorter, and the heavy overcast made them seem shorter still. He looked up and to his right at the lamp on the table beside him. Raising his hand, he determined that his initial estimate had been correct. He couldn't reach the switch. He lowered his hand with a grimace of irritation.

"It's a good film," said Tallant's voice behind him, and Logan tried to turn. The back of the chair he sat in was too high for him to see past it. A moment later, Tallant walked around into view. Logan's vision was still adjusting to the dimness after the brightness of Africa, but he could see Tallant's eyes reflecting the light from the hall. "I came in about twenty minutes ago and didn't want to interrupt."

"Thanks," Logan said insincerely. "Very kind of you." He hoped the tone came across as snark and not petulance.

Tallant reached out and – easy as pie – switched on the lamp. Then he sat down beside Logan on the sofa. "I've seen them, you know," Tallant said. "Before the Pulse."

Logan didn't respond. He didn't want to be lured into a casual conversation with a man who had so calmly threatened the life of a child earlier in the day. He didn't want Tallant getting the slightest impression that he was okay with what was going on here.

"I saw the movie when I was seventeen, and I knew I had to see those lions. My dad told me to get a job and maybe I would."

Logan pushed the tray table aside and crossed his arms, looking away. He fixed his eyes on a shelf of books, trying to read the spines.

"So, I got a job at the local grocery store after school, and the summer after I graduated, I went to Chicago. All my friends thought I was crazy to spend my money on a trip to a museum, but I didn't care."

Logan rolled his eyes. He began to fold the paper just for something to do.

"They weren't what I expected from the movie. Have you seen them?" Logan didn't respond. "Come now, Logan, you have to say something."

"Why, are you going to threaten a little girl to get me to chat?" Logan asked, and this time he was reasonably sure he sounded petulant. He ground his teeth.

"Of course not," Tallant said with a shake of his head. "That was business."

"And what's this?" He half expected the answer to be pleasure, and wished he hadn't asked the question.

"Personal," Tallant replied. Glad as he was that his prediction had been wrong, Logan still wished he hadn't asked the question. Extending this conversation wasn't on his list of preferences. "You know, Logan, this may come as a surprise to you, but I'm finding this fairly awkward myself."

"What?" Logan exclaimed. "You're finding it awkward? You kidnapped me."

"No, I didn't," Tallant said, and Logan gave him an incredulous look. "I purchased you."

"No, you didn't," Logan retorted. "If you want to pick nits, you stole me, and since I'm a person, that means you kidnapped me. You just didn't kidnap me from my home, you kidnapped me from my kidnappers."

Tallant laughed. "When you put it that way, it sounds a lot like the plot of a bad gothic romance." Logan rolled his eyes. "And now you're talking." Logan stiffened and turned away, angry with himself. "Come on, don't be a stick," Tallant said. "I'm curious, have you seen the lions?"

Logan shrugged. "Yeah, when I was seventeen, actually." He'd been touring factories with his uncle in the Midwest, and he'd played hooky to go to the Field Museum.

"Were you impressed?"

"I've always kind of wished they'd been mounted when they were killed. Twenty-five years as rugs didn't improve them."

Tallant snorted agreement and they fell silent again. Logan looked away and wished he could get up and walk away. He gazed down at his toes and willed them to twitch. Nothing.

"So, I . . ." Tallant seemed to lose track of his sentence when Logan looked up.

"What are you finding so awkward?" Logan demanded. "I know for a fact that you've bought and sold people in the past, did you not talk to them?"

"Differently," Tallant said. "I'm finding it awkward . . . hitting on a man I'm holding prisoner."

Logan's eye widened, and he turned to stare out the window. "Oh boy," he muttered.

"I've looked through your life history, and I find nothing to indicate that you've ever had a relationship with a man before."

"That would be because I haven't," Logan said. His heart rate was increasing, and he was very aware of just how close Tallant was sitting. Hints had been dropped . . . hell, bricks had been dropped . . . but Logan had managed to ignore them till now. "I don't swing that way."

"Have you had sex since your injury?" Tallant asked. "I know a lot of people with paralysis have issues with that, and –"

"And that's really none of your business," Logan snapped. It wasn't something he dwelled on . . . much. He certainly didn't want to discuss it with Tallant.

"I just thought that – if you haven't – if you were nervous – trying something entirely new might be good. No preconceptions, no history, it might help."

"You sound like you're offering me sex therapy," Logan said incredulously.

"That's an interesting way of putting it," Tallant said with a chuckle.

"No," Logan said. "Not only no, but hell no. Not likely."

Tallant sighed. "That's a shame," he replied. He took hold of Logan's hand and forcibly interlaced their fingers. "That _is_ going to make this more difficult."

"I said no." Logan tried to free his hand, but Tallant tightened his grip. "Let go."

Tallant dragged Logan's hand up and kissed the back of it. "No."

Logan pulled ineffectually, and glared at him. "What was all that about, then? The hitting on me, the awkward small talk, why did you bother?"

"Because if you'd said yes, you'd never have known that I wouldn't take no for an answer," Tallant said, stroking the back of Logan's hand with his thumb.

Logan felt himself start to shake. "You can't mean that."

"Why not?" Tallant asked, continuing to stroke Logan's hand with his thumb. "You're an attractive man, surely you know that. I can't be the first person of either gender to hit on you."

Logan's free hand was clenched in his lap. "No, you're not," he said, recalling some awkward moments at college when other young men had made exploratory moves in his direction. "Please let go of my hand."

"No, Logan," Tallant said, smiling at him. "This is an unusual experience for me."

"How so?" Logan asked. Now far from wanting the conversation to end, Logan was afraid of what would happen when Tallant stopped talking.

"Most of the time when I make an offer like this, it's gladly accepted, but then most of the men I favor with my attentions are coming from . . . shall we say, lesser accommodations." Logan didn't know exactly what that vague statement meant, only that it implied a trading of sex for an improvement in status. "The ones who refuse . . . I'm not always very gentle with." This last was said in an almost regretful tone that made Logan's skin crawl. "You're different."

"In what way?" Logan asked, caught between not wanting to know and wanting to keep Tallant talking rather than acting.

"Well, you're considerably more refined, for one thing, and you wouldn't be trading up, per se. You already own your own apartment with comfortable furnishings, fine art and state of the art computer equipment. I have little to offer you beyond my own attractions."

"In other words, you can't bribe me to accept your advances."

"Crudely put, yes." Tallant pushed Logan's sleeve up to his elbow and began stroking his forearm. He was still holding Logan's hand firmly enough that he couldn't pull away. Logan looked straight ahead, out the windows, his stomach twisting on the food he'd eaten. "And your refusal was considerably more polite than most I get. No four-letter words, no insults to my manhood."

"Hell isn't a four-letter word?" Logan asked curiously.

Tallant shrugged. "It's mild compared to some I hear."

"So, I'm both less needy and nicer than your usual target, so I get different treatment, is that it?"

"Not exactly. You see, Logan, I don't just want to fuck you." Logan flinched at the blunt word. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I do want to fuck you, and I will, but that's not all I want."

"No, you want my brains, didn't you say?"

"That's entirely separate, Logan," Tallant replied. "That's business. I want more from you on a personal level."

"Glad to know I'm not just another ass," Logan said, his voice calmer than he was. He was dead. This man was going to kill him because whatever he wanted, there was no way Logan was giving it to him, even if he were able.

"Oh, if you were just a nice ass with utility, I wouldn't have brought you here," Tallant said, and Logan found this a peculiar description. "There are plenty of places I could have taken you where you could work in privacy and provide me with relief when required."

Logan turned towards him, clearing his throat. "Look, I don't know what you want from me, but –"

"I just want you," Tallant said, gazing calmly at Logan.

Logan shook his head and looked away again. "You don't know me."

"I've read the life history of Logan Cale, including your police files." Logan's brows went up. "And I've been watching Eyes Only with interest since the very beginning. Combine the two, and I think I have a pretty good picture of you."

"Are you saying you brought me here because of eyes on a screen?" Logan asked incredulously.

"I'm not sure which attracted me first, the eyes or the voice," Tallant replied. "And if you hadn't impressed me in those first few moments, I would have taken you elsewhere."

"I'm not that good looking," Logan said, remembering the remark about how his looks didn't disappoint.

"It's not just your looks, Logan," Tallant said. Leaning forward, he took Logan's chin in his hand and turned him to face him. "You had to have been scared, I know you were angry, hurt, hungry and tired, but in those first few minutes, you were controlled. You didn't let out filthy curses, you behaved with perfect poise. Lying on that grimy floor, incapable of rising, hands bound behind you, me yanking you around by your hair, demanding the impossible of you, all you did was glare at me and explain the situation in a quiet voice." He sat back. "It was impressive." He kissed Logan's hand again, his tongue tasting the skin before he withdrew.

"Thrilling," Logan said, and he tried to pull his hand away again, gripping onto the arm of the recliner for leverage.

"Stop that," Tallant said in a mild voice.

"Let go of my hand, and I will."

Tallant turned Logan's hand over and kissed the palm, then released it. Logan drew his hand back and rubbed the skin, trying to rid himself of the touch automatically.

Tallant noticed, and his eyes narrowed, but he didn't address the issue. "So, while the eyes and the voice on your video bulletins primed me to be attracted to you, it was meeting you that made me certain that I wanted you."

"Regardless, those are all . . . it doesn't mean you know me," Logan said. "Not . . . this is nuts."

Tallant laughed. "I know," he said frankly, and Logan wasn't reassured. "I've never had this reaction to anyone before. And of course I know I have a lot to learn about you, but I'm looking forward to that process of discovery."

"You do realize that –"

A chirping ring sounded, and Tallant held a hand up. He rose and walked swiftly from the room, not answering until he was out of easy earshot. Logan could hear his voice, but not what he was saying. He sat back against the recliner, feeling shell-shocked. He had to get out of here.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"This is getting us nowhere," Max growled, pacing back and forth. Bling watched her uneasily. She reminded him of a panther pacing in its cage at the zoo.

"You're right," Matt said suddenly. "We're taking the wrong tack. Tallant's been hiding for decades, since the late 90s at least. He's an expert at it."

"Logan couldn't find him," Bling agreed dispiritedly. "I'll sure never be able to."

"So what should we be doing?" Max demanded. Given her fierce expression, Bling sure hoped Matt had an idea.

"Looking for his buyer," Matt said, and Max's eyes widened. "Or at least the place for the exchange."

"That makes sense," Bling said.

"That will have to be on neutral territory, I would think," Matt added. "Tallant has a vested interest in keeping his buyers happy, but with his rep, I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."

"How do we find that?" Max asked.

"There are limited options. I can put some feelers out, and –"

"And I'll check out the word on the street," Max interjected. Bling could see that she was already happier with the prospect of something to do.

"It's a plan," Bling said. "Call me if you find anything, or need me to get you information." Max nodded and started out of the room. "Max!" he called.

She'd gone past the door frame, but she backed up. "What?" she asked impatiently.

"Take Logan's phone." He held it out to her and her eyes rested on it briefly, their expression unreadable, before she took it and was gone.

"Does Logan know how she feels about him?" Matt asked.

Bling snorted. "I don't think she knows how she feels about him," he replied. "Now get to work, or it won't matter."

* * *

Max hung upside down outside the window of Earnest Randall's office, waiting. Earnest Randall was the man who decided who was allowed to leave Seattle on any given day. Of course, he delegated some of the work to his flunkies, but the big decisions landed on him. It was just past six, but Randall rarely went home until seven. Some decisions were made outside of listed office hours. Fortunately, the man who made the decisions had a passion for fresh air. In all but the worst storms, his office window was open. This might have been seen as a security breach in some circles, but the window was on the fourth floor of a six-story building.

She'd listened to a lot of irrelevancies over the past forty minutes, but she'd given some thought to Sung's stipulation of neutral territory. Given the state of things in the city of Seattle, the most neutral territory to be found was outside, which would require permits.

For the last ten minutes, the office had been quiet. The door did not open or close quietly, and she'd heard Randall's voice since the last time it had closed, so she knew he was still in there. Abruptly, she heard footsteps crossing the room, and the door opened. "Lambrusco, get in here!" Randall's voice was slightly muffled, and Max leaned closer.

Footsteps entered the room and she heard the door close again. "Okay, I've got to be out of here . . . like five minutes ago," Randall said, and Max could imagine him looking at his watch. "If you have anything you need me to look at, you're going to have to tell me now."

"I haven't . . . I've only got one today, and I haven't finished the paperwork yet," Lambrusco said, sounding slightly harried.

"Damn it, does it have to be done today?"

"The flight is tomorrow night, sir, and he planned to pick it up tomorrow morning at ten."

"Who?"

"Morgan Lang, sir."

Max grit her teeth and started to shift, preparatory to going back up the wall to the roof. That wasn't a name they had on their lists, so it probably wasn't connected, and if Randall was going home, she wasn't going to learn anything more here tonight.

"Approve it," Randall said. "Here's the stamp."

"But sir," Lambrusco said in a low voice, "did you realize that they've got Logan Cale?"

"What?" Randall sounded startled, and Max froze, listening with all her attention.

"I saw the video before it was wiped," Lambrusco said. "They're the ones who took him from that apartment on 14th. Sir, it's one thing to let him get away with smuggling and money laundering, but kidnapping?" Max added murder to that list mentally, but she doubted either man considered the deaths of two minor criminals to be of much note, especially when compared to the clout people like Tallant and the Cales possessed.

"Do you have any reason to believe that Cale will be traveling with him?" Randall asked.

"Just the timing and the fact that he always requests permits for four people plus cargo, and this one is for five."

There was a brief silence, then Randall spoke. "Has the commissioner heard from Jonas Cale today?"

"Not that I know of," Lambrusco replied.

"If Cale was raising a stink, everyone in the building would know about it," Randall said, answering his own question. "You said a flight? Where?"

"To Calgary, sir, on his private plane."

"Approve it. I've got to go. My daughter's recital starts in five minutes." Rapid footsteps followed this statement, and she heard the door open and close.

Max heard Lambrusco moving around, then the door opened and closed again.

A flight to Canada tomorrow night. A change from four passes to five. No mention of Tallant's name, but clear indication that Logan was connected to this Morgan Lang somehow. Max climbed back up the building and moved away from the police department before calling Bling.

"Yeah?" Bling said.

"Look up someone named Morgan Lang. See if you can find a picture. I'll be there in ten." She hung up and dropped down to the street.

* * *

Logan grimaced at the TV. It was very weird to be bored and terrified at the same time. Morgan had come back after Tallant had gone to give Logan the opportunity to use the toilet and lie down if he wanted to. He'd accepted the first and declined the latter, so Morgan had returned him to the den where Tallant had apologetically told him he had work to do that couldn't wait, but that Jacob would be available if Logan had any needs.

Jacob, who turned out to be the cook, had come in once since then to see if Logan needed anything. That was nearly forty minutes ago, and he hadn't heard a peep since. Logan peered around the chair to the hallway. No one there. He took a deep breath and nodded. It was his best chance so far of making a break for it. He pushed himself gently out of the chair, catching most of his weight on his bent arms.

Dragging himself out of the room proved to be more work than he'd expected. There were little tables and other impedimenta in the way, but he made it to the hallway without getting caught. Now he just had to keep up the lucky streak.

All the doors he could see were closed. He dragged himself past them, ignoring the way his shoulders were beginning to burn. As he approached the kitchen, he could smell what had distracted Jacob. Timpano took a lot of prep time, and it wasn't something that could be left on its own to simmer for any length of time.  While some parts simmered, other prep was called for. Logan peered around, saw the backs of Jacob's shoes, and, taking a deep breath and holding it, he dragged himself past the doorway as fast as he could, his heart racing, waiting for a yell of dismay and anger.

Nothing happened, and his heart rate slowed again to the elevated level demanded by the exercise he was undertaking. He finally reached the front room, and to his relief, his chair was still there. He'd had images of it having been moved to another room for safekeeping, but it was still within reach, if barely.

The brakes weren't set, so when he reached for it the first time, it started to roll away. Logan barely stopped it before it bonked against the wall. He was trying to control his breathing, which was getting a little labored. Dragging his whole weight against the friction of the carpet was considerably harder than it sounded.

Setting the brakes, he pulled himself into his chair, moving as quickly but as quietly as possible. When, at long last, he was sitting in the chair, he felt like he'd run a marathon. Now he just had to get out of here before Tallant got back. It would be just his luck to turn the chair to find Tallant staring at him, looking impressed. It was the last thing he wanted.

He wheeled himself to the front doors. All this time he'd been gambling on one thing. Tallant didn't usually bring prisoners here, so maybe, just maybe, the doors only locked from the outside. He turned the knob and the doors swung slowly open, silent on their heavy hinges. Logan realized he'd been holding his breath and forced himself to take in a gulp of air. He went through the doors and carefully closed them behind him. Now he'd gone too far to go back. The doors had to lock automatically.

Next was another possible check. He remembered a keypad at the elevator on the second floor. Unlike Max, he couldn't memorize a passcode from the sounds of the blips. Again, though, this wasn't a place for holding prisoners, and there was no keypad at the top of the elevator. Logan pushed the button and prayed that he wouldn't find Tallant and Morgan standing on the other side of the doors.

It opened immediately, and Logan realized that it must be programmed to rest at the top so that no one could use it as a way to deliver unwanted goods, like a bomb. He rolled forward, his heart in his mouth. If he could just get to a phone, he would be home free. The floor one button was completely gone, so he hit level two and listened to the noise of the cable above him, more than a little alarmed by how loud it was. His heart sped up as the light above the door flicked from three to two, anticipating the possibility that Tallant would be outside, but the coast was clear. Now he just had to figure out how to get off the floor.

There was a door to the right of the elevator that no doubt led to a flight of stairs. In theory, he could send his chair down one flight at a time, then crawl down after. He opened the door and found that the stairs had been blocked with great chunks of concrete. The ramp it was.

All his activity thus far had worked up a sweat, and the cool air coming from outside was chilling him faster than he'd expected. Shivering, he wheeled himself towards the empty parking space, looking for a one person door. There had to be a way out of this building that didn't require a vehicle. He didn't locate that, instead he found a switch that opened the whole door.

For a split second, he stared at the opening, then he ventured forward cautiously. There was no light on the ramp at all, and it was steeper than he'd realized. His palms had grown sweaty from anxiety, so he wiped them on his pants so they wouldn't slip on the rims. He'd have to go slowly or risk losing control of the chair. He swallowed convulsively. This was taking too long. The crawl from the den to the front room had taken forever, and Jacob was sure to notice sooner or later that he wasn't where he was supposed to be.

The curve of the ramp further diminished the light, and this wasn't a neighborhood where streetlights were reliable. His eyes gradually adjusted to the dimness, but it was still too dark to see much. He could hear cars moving on the street outside from time to time, so initially the sound of an engine didn't alarm him. Then it abruptly grew louder and a bright light blinded him. Starting backwards, he overbalanced the chair and landed on his back, the chair falling out from under him.

The car kept coming, and Logan knew he was going to be crushed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Logan shoved himself away as hard as he could and discovered that there was a hole at the base of the wall that bordered the ramp. His stomach flipped as he fell unexpectedly through the gap. When he landed, he rolled a couple of times on an incline and wound up on his back on an uneven surface, staring up at the darkened ceiling.

Somewhere in the chaos of the fall, he heard the squeal of brakes, and as he lay there on the rubble, he heard Tallant yelling. "Where the hell is he?"

Maybe if he stayed quiet, they'd miss him and he'd be able to crawl out on his own. He ached all over, but the fall had banged him up pretty good, so that wasn't exactly shocking. He sighed and contemplated his next move.

"He's paralyzed, you moron!" Tallant yelled. "How could he possibly have gotten past you? Did you put him in his chair?"

Logan saw a flashlight beam cutting through the dust in the air, and he followed it to Morgan's hand. The light panned across and landed on his chest. He looked up at Morgan's face and gave him a faint wave with his right hand. "I found him, Jeff," Morgan called.

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Bring the car down."

Tallant growled assent and there was the sound of a car door slamming. Logan looked up at the man towering over him. "So, now what?"

"Now you hold the flashlight while I carry you to the car."

Logan took the flashlight from him and looked at it. "Why would I do that?"

Morgan shrugged and scooped Logan into his arms. "Because you don't want me to fall while I'm carrying you. "

"Good point," Logan said, and lit the way.

They reached the bottom of the ramp just as the car did. Tallant hopped out and opened the back door. Morgan deposited Logan in the backseat of the car, and Tallant got in on the other side. Logan looked at the seat in front of him, expecting anger and possibly violence.

Tallant scooted closer and put his hand on Logan's shoulder, and took his chin, tilting his head. "That's quite a scrape, Logan. We're going to have to get you cleaned up."

Logan pulled his chin away. "You're not angry?"

Tallant snorted. "Angry? That without your chair, without any help at all, you actually almost got away?" He shook his head. "It's impressive. Ten minutes earlier and you might have succeeded."

Logan didn't like that thought much. "Or Jacob might have turned around," he said. "I had to take the chance."

They stopped in the garage and the door shut down with a final-sounding thud. Morgan and Tallant got out, and Logan was treated to a replay of his earlier arrival. Both he and his wheelchair were considerably more battered than they had been, but things progressed in much the same way. Up in the elevator back to the apartment.

Once they were inside, Tallant gave him a push towards the gym and the bathroom beyond. "Check him over and get him cleaned up again, then bring him back to the kitchen." He walked away in the other direction. Logan began wheeling the chair towards the gym. Since he didn't really have a choice, he might as well go under his own power.

"Hold up," Morgan said when they reached the gym, and Logan paused. "Let me get you up on the table."

"The table?" Logan asked.

"I need to check you over."

Logan grimaced, but he put up with the examination. Morgan stripped off his pants and checked the bones and ligaments in his legs. It was something Logan hadn't really thought about, but it was a good question. "Everything seems fine," Morgan said at length, and Logan raised an eyebrow.

"Got a medical degree?"

"Was a physical therapist before," the other man said. "And a personal trainer."

"So you do know what you're doing?" Logan said, but it came out as more of a question than he'd intended.

"I'll check you for swelling and heat before you go to bed and in the morning, but I think you're set." He picked Logan up and put him in the chair. "I'd avoid impressing Jeff with any more exploits. He will eventually get annoyed."

"I don't want to be here," Logan said.

"No kidding," Morgan replied.

"If I see a way out, I'm going to take it." Morgan shrugged and started the water. "How long have you worked for him, anyway?" Morgan didn't reply, not that Logan had really expected him to. He rolled over to the mirror, which was low enough that he could see down to the middle of his chest. His face did have an enormous scrape on it, and he could feel others under his clothes. He pulled his sleeves up and looked at his arms. He'd gotten some rug burn in the process of dragging himself along.

"That's gonna sting," Morgan said. "Can I trust you to sit here for a couple of minutes, or do I need to get Jacob to come in?"

"Where would I go?" Logan asked. Morgan gave him an irritated look and didn't leave. "I'm not going anywhere without my pants. I have my dignity to consider. A half-naked paraplegic is a bad joke waiting to happen."

"Why don't I trust you?" Morgan asked.

"Because you have sense," Tallant replied, coming in through the gym. Logan suddenly wanted to cover himself up. "I'll stay with him. I assume you want the first aid supplies?" Morgan nodded. "Go on." Morgan left the room, and Logan stared into the mirror as Tallant came up behind him. "Aren't you going to finish getting undressed?"

"I can wait," Logan said.

"Don't be silly," Tallant replied.

Logan had a profound suspicion that Tallant would 'help' him get undressed if he didn't cooperate, so he pulled his shirt off. This necessitated leaning forward, and when he went to lean back, Tallant put a hand on his shoulder and forestalled him. Logan didn't like the contact. "What?"

"You've got a nasty mark on your back, a bruise that looks pretty bad."

"It's fine," Logan said, pulling away and leaning back.

Tallant bent and brushed his lips against the back of Logan's neck. Logan flinched away and inadvertently met Tallant's amused eyes in the mirror. "Give it some time," Tallant said, rising and running his fingers through Logan's hair, then down his neck onto his shoulders. "You'll come to like it."

Logan doubted it, but he didn't say so. His eyes went to the tub. "The water's getting a bit deep," he said.

Tallant walked over and turned the water off. "Do you need some help getting cleaned up?" he asked. "I could get in with you."

"I'll be fine," Logan replied immediately. Tallant's eyes narrowed, and Logan cursed his own anxiety for making him answer too quickly.

Before Tallant could speak or do anything, Morgan walked in with what looked kind of like a large fishing tackle box.

"You take care of him for me, Morgan," Tallant said, and Morgan nodded. "That will give me some time to have a chat with Jacob about his lapse." He walked over to Logan and gave him another kiss on the neck, then left the room.

Logan watched him go, then let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Ready?" Morgan asked.

Logan nodded and wheeled over. The bath was fairly quick, but the ensuing application of antibiotic cream and bandages took awhile. Finally, Morgan let Logan get dressed, this time in sweats and a t-shirt from the gym cupboard. The pants were a little short in the leg and big in the waist, but they had a drawstring.

Jacob was putting the finishing touches on dinner when they entered. He looked up and Logan saw the bruise blackening around his eye. His lips tightened when he saw Logan, and he turned back to his cooking. Looked like he'd made an enemy there, but it couldn't be helped.

The table was set for two, and Logan found himself wondering where Jacob and Morgan ate. The table in here was only big enough for two. Tallant walked in from behind him and put his hands on Logan's shoulders. Evidently that was a covert message that he should stop moving, because he made an impatient noise and squeezed when Logan kept going. Logan looked up.

Tallant was smiling down at him. "Hands in your lap, Logan, I've got it." Logan hesitated. Fighting it wouldn't gain him anything, but it went against the grain to give in. After a second or two, he put his hands in his lap and let himself be pushed into place. Tallant rested his hands on Logan's shoulders then. "Everything ready, Jacob?" he asked.

"It will be a few more minutes, Jeff," Jacob replied irritably. "I had this little interruption."

"I wouldn't mention that if I were you," Tallant said conversationally.

"I already knew he was missing when you called," Jacob said, turning. It was as if he was continuing an earlier argument.

"I don't care. The man dragged himself the length of the apartment, got himself into his wheelchair and was almost outside. Fix dinner and quit whining."

Jacob turned back to the sink and kept working. Logan wished Tallant would go sit down, but instead he started rubbing Logan's shoulders. Logan tried to shrug him off. "Not really a fan of massage," he said.

Tallant's hands stilled, but he didn't go sit down. Logan began to wish that Jacob would finish with the food already so that he would have to. "You seem tense."

"Shocking," Logan replied. "But seriously, not a fan of massage."

"If I were a beautiful woman?"

"I'd still say no," Logan said.

"That's a shame, I'm told my technique is rather good." He kissed the back of Logan's head and then walked around to take his seat, where he immediately started fiddling with the silverware. "We'll have to get you some properly fitted clothes," he said. "Morgan can take your measurements later. Not that you don't look perfectly charming, but I'd like to see you in clothes that suit you."

"Not really worried about how I look," Logan said, rubbing his beard. It was growing thicker than he liked.

"Do you need to shave?"

"Maybe," Logan said.

"Tell Morgan what you need and we'll have it for you in the morning," Tallant said.

"It's shaving, not rocket science, Jeff," Jacob said, depositing two plates on the table. It looked delectable. Whatever else he might be, Jacob was definitely a good cook.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion," Tallant said.

"Dessert's in the fridge," Jacob replied. "Unless you want me to come back to serve it?"

"No, we'll be fine."

"We'll be in the den if you need anything." Jacob left then, carrying four plates, two that contained some kind of pie and two that looked a great deal like what he'd served them.

"Not hungry?" Tallant asked, and Logan looked up, startled, unaware that he'd been woolgathering. He picked up his fork and started eating. For a few moments they ate in silence, giving the delicious meal its due. Logan looked out the window at the view. It wasn't much, now. The rain that had been threatening all day had started, so the windows streamed with water, obscuring and blurring the cityscape. "Ordinarily I don't take time out for meals," Tallant said, and Logan turned in surprise. "He brings me my dinner at my desk. I think Jacob's put out that we're using his table."

"No need to stop work on my account," Logan said.

"Morgan says I need to take more breaks, so maybe having you here will be good for me."

Logan didn't have a response to that, so he just addressed himself to his food again. He'd wondered how truthful Tallant had been when he said he didn't usually do this, but the lack of inner locks, the way his presence seemed to be disrupting the household, all pointed to it being out of the ordinary. "So, it's just the three of you here?" he asked after a moment.

"There's a caretaker, too, who lives here all the time, keeping an eye on things when I'm not in Seattle. He's not real sociable, so we don't see him much."

"Does he know . . . who I am?" Logan asked. It was bad enough that these three knew the secret. If he could get out of here, he was going to have to find some way to silence them, and that thought made him feel slightly sick.

"Oh, no. Just Jacob, Morgan and me. I'm going to keep it that way." He reached out and took Logan's left hand, resting empty on the table while he ate. Logan looked up and forced himself not to pull away. "He knows you're Logan Cale, of course. Quite a few people know I've got Logan Cale, actually, but no one needs to know any more than that."

"But . . . the police . . ."

Tallant shrugged. "I've already paid to have the video evidence expunged, and I suspect your family will just be glad to be saved the expense of the ransom." Logan grimaced, not sure that wasn't an accurate statement. "And your friends have moved into your apartment, so far as I can see, but I'm sure your uncle will kick them out once he's given up hope of finding you."

Logan looked out the window again. Bling and Max were looking for him, then, using the computers as a resource. He wondered if Bling had followed his instructions and zapped the informant net, but while he still had control over the computers, it could be done at any point. He couldn't access it, regardless. All he could do was delete it.

"I'll have Alan get things set up so that the four of us can be more comfortable together."

Logan shrugged. He couldn't imagine anything making him more comfortable here, with these men. He sighed and kept eating.


	12. Chapter 12

"How many private planes can there possibly be that are flying to Canada tomorrow?" Max demanded.

"Six," Bling said, and she let an infuriated growl. He understood her frustration. "And four of them haven't filed flight plans that state the exact time of departure."

"Names attached? Anything?"

"Nothing I recognize," Bling said. "Three of them only have pilots mentioned in the paperwork."

"Does any one of them say anything about four passengers?"

Bling turned back to the screen and scanned. "Two, but one of those is leaving in the morning, and lists the passengers as a family with two children."

"So it could be that other one, or one of the three with no passengers listed yet."

Bling nodded, then he looked closer. "No, that one isn't a passenger plane. I don't see Tallant traveling as cargo."

Max shook her head. "So that narrows it down to three."

"At different locations," Bling added. "I'll keep watching for more information. You get some rest."

"I'm fine."

"You need to be better than fine tomorrow night when the time comes to get Logan. Get some sleep, Max."

"I don't sleep."

"You need rest, Max. Lie down here if you have to, but get some sleep."

* * *

Max wandered away from him, not intending to go to sleep, but wanting to get away from his insistence that she do so. The apartment was quiet and empty, and despite their presence, without Logan it felt uninhabited. Several minutes later, she found herself outside Logan's room, staring at the door. After a brief hesitation, she turned the knob and went in.

Art hung on the walls – shocking – and there was a lot of open space in the room, necessary for a man in a wheelchair. She wandered over to the closet and opened the doors. Logan's clothes hung there in neat rows, and a scent wafted out, detergent mixed with a faint hint of Logan. She knew she shouldn't be in here, that she was invading his privacy. He'd never once shown her his own space, but she didn't leave.

One side of the bed had bars in place to allow Logan to lever himself out of his chair and into bed. She walked over and sat down. The mattress depressed under her weight, and a much stronger whiff of Logan scent filled her senses. How had that man gotten so under her skin? Since she'd found him missing, she hadn't once thought about Zack or the others. Logan had filled every thought since she'd seen his blood on the floor of his office. Now she had a solid lead, but she couldn't follow it until tomorrow.

Maybe Bling was right, maybe she needed sleep. She rose hastily at the thought that occurred to her, that she was sitting on a bed. No way in hell could she sleep in here. Not only was it rude, it was wrong, and she didn't even know why she wanted to. Dismissing the thought that she could at least borrow a pillow, she hurried to the guest room where she'd first seen Sophy and Lauren. Kicking her shoes off, she climbed in and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep for six hours and no more.

* * *

Their after dinner conversation was stilted until Tallant got the bright idea of putting a movie on. Surprisingly, he hadn't pushed any physical contact on Logan, though that may have been because Morgan and Jacob were there, too. He didn't seem particularly disposed to public displays, if this could be called public. Morgan had taken him out of the chair and put him in the recliner again, and Tallant had sat down next to him. Logan sat back and watched, his long day catching up with him till he was yawning more than he wasn't. The nap hadn't truly compensated for two days of little sleep that was unrestful anyway, and the escape attempt had worn him out on top of that.

He was woken from a doze by a sharp voice. "Lover boy's asleep, Jeff," said Jacob. Logan blinked up at him, feeling distinctly logy.

"Don't call him that," Tallant said irritably. "Morgan, put him to bed."

"Where?"

"My room will be fine," Tallant replied. That brought Logan awake quickly, and Tallant seemed to notice his alarm. He caught Logan's hand and squeezed. "Don't worry, Logan, I like my partners to be something other than comatose. Your virtue is safe even if we do share the same bed."

Logan grimaced slightly, but he didn't respond. Morgan scooped him up and carried him out of the den, leaving his chair behind. Logan didn't even protest because he knew it would be no use.

The carpet in the bedroom was black, as it was throughout the apartment. The bed was frameless, and all the linens were stark black as well. The walls were white, hung with abstract art in red and white. Oddly, the ceiling was black. A crimson sofa stood under the windows.

Morgan took him into the attached bathroom for one last pit stop before bed. "What do you usually wear to bed?" he asked, then.

"Boxers and a t-shirt," Logan said.

"Then let's get these sweats off you." Morgan set him down on the bed and suited actions to words. Then he helped him to get under the covers.

Logan lay back in the bed. "What, no good night cup of hot chocolate?"

"Do you need one?" Logan shook his head. "Then not this time." He switched off the light and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. A moment later Logan distinctly heard a click, as of a key turning in a lock. Great. They'd underestimated him at first, but now they were going to be extra careful.

The adrenaline burst when Tallant had sent him to bed in his own bed was fading, and now, in the dark, his exhaustion took him under almost immediately.

* * *

Max woke up right on time. She found Bling asleep at the computer. She poked him, and he sat up with a start. "You're a fine one to lecture me," she said. "Anything new?"

He sat forward and woke the computer back up, then refreshed the data on the screen. "Not yet," he said, shaking his head.

"I've got to go to work," Max said.

"You got Logan's phone?" Bling asked. She nodded. "I'll call you if there are any updates. You staying at work?"

"I'm going to see if I can persuade Normal to give me another personal day."

"You could call," Bling suggested.

She shook her head. "I'll be more convincing in person," she replied.

Grabbing her bike, she headed out, but stopped about twenty feet before the entrance to Jam Pony. There, she composed her face in a suitably upset expression and walked in.

"Well, as I live and breathe," Normal said, and she thanked her lucky stars that he wasn't behind his counter yet. "It's Max, and she's early."

Cindy came running up. "You okay, girl?" she asked sympathetically.

"I'm fine," Max said in a choked up voice. "I just . . . the police don't seem to have any leads, and I don't know if Logan's . . ." She made a show of controlling herself and looked at Normal, her eyes brimming with tears. "I just think I need to . . . to work. Sitting at Logan's all day . . . worrying . . . it isn't doing any . . ." She sniffed, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand.

"Okay, okay, let me see if I've –" He started to move away and Max followed him, leaving her bike in Cindy's hands.

She caught hold of his arm, and he stopped, turning to stare down at her. She gave him wide eyes and let the tears start to trickle. "They say if a missing person isn't found within forty-eight hours, it means they probably won't be found," she said, her voice wobbly. "Do you think that's true?" She let her lower lip quiver.

"I . . . I don't know," Normal said, and she sniffled, renewing her grip on his arm. "If you want to work, I've got –" He gestured towards the office, but she didn't let him finish the sentence, clutching his arm tighter.

"He could be . . . do you think he's . . ." She sniffed and bit her lips, then artistically lost control, bursting into realistic seeming tears. She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, babbling incoherently. She'd noticed that men didn't much like crying women, and they particularly didn't like ones who talked while they cried. She clutched onto the back of Normal's shirt.

"I think you'd better take a personal day, Max," Normal said, pushing her gingerly away. She looked up at him, presenting a tear-stained face.

"But –" she started, and then she 'noticed' that she'd gotten the front of his shirt wet. She began wiping at it with her hand. "I'm sorry . . . I didn't . . ."

"It's okay," Normal said in a faintly panic-stricken voice. She nodded, and started crying again, leaning towards him. He backed up, pulling away from her and holding his hand up. "In fact, until you're feeling more yourself, just take some time off."

"But –"

"Your job will still be here when you get back."

"Okay, if you say so," she said, and she drooped back to her bike, accepted a hug from Cindy, who walked her out.

"Girl, I'm worried about you," Cindy said. Fifteen feet beyond the entrance, Max turned the tears off and pulled away from Cindy.

"I've got to go."

Original Cindy's eyebrows went up. "That is the best acting I've seen in a long time. You gonna explain this to me some time?"

"Later, Cindy, I promise, but I've got to go."

Cindy looked at her anxiously, then shrugged. "Okay, be safe, girl."

"I will," Max said. She hugged Cindy once, and then she mounted her bike and rode off. What she was going to tell her later, she didn't know, but she could decide that then.

In the meantime, she needed gas for her motorcycle, because she was going to have to get to those airstrips somehow. Logan's car had been found around the block from the apartment building where Jack and Deke had died. It had been processed and released, but the bike would be faster.

* * *

Logan woke up and looked down his body. There was an arm draped over his chest. He turned his head slowly to his left and saw Tallant's head on the pillow beside him. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he didn't have a prospective rapist cuddled up close to him. There was a digital clock on the bedside table that read eight twenty-four. He shifted uneasily, hoping it wouldn't wake Tallant, but the other man slumbered on. A few moments later, he rolled over, away from Logan.

Logan leaned up on his elbows. This bed was closer to the ground, he needed to use the bathroom, and he didn't particularly want to wake up his host in case he decided that a freshly rested Logan would be sufficiently noncomatose for whatever he had in mind.

Putting his hand on the bedside table, he gave it a shake to see if it was solid. It was, so he sat up and slid his legs to the edge of the bed and over. With one hand on the bedside table and the other on the bed, he lowered the rest of him down to the floor. Crawling to the bathroom woke up aches in all the muscles he'd overstressed in his escape attempt, but he was bound and determined not to ask for Tallant's help with this.

Getting up on the toilet proved more challenging than he'd expected. The seat wasn't as solid as the base and had a tendency to slip to the side. After several tries, he leaned back against the wall, frustrated.

"Logan?" Tallant sounded tired and the slightest bit angry. Logan was just breathing in to yell a response when the man himself appeared in the bathroom doorway. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Not a lot," Logan said. He thumped his head against the wall, and, finding a bump from the previous night's jaunt, he made a face.

Tallant walked over and knelt down beside him. He slid one arm behind Logan's back and one under his knees, then lifted him off the floor, straining a bit. He managed to get Logan onto the toilet, at which point Logan got himself properly situated.

"Thanks," Logan said reflexively. "Can I . . . a little privacy?"

Tallant shrugged and walked away, leaving Logan to manage for himself. A few moments later, Morgan walked in. "You done?"

Logan nodded. "Can I please have my chair?"

Morgan shrugged and picked him up. He let him wash his hands, then carried him back into the bedroom. Logan went stiff in Morgan's arms when he saw where Tallant was waiting. He sat up on the bed, leaning against the wall, and Morgan bent to lower Logan to the bed's surface. Logan scooted closer to the edge away from his host as Morgan left the room. Tallant looked over at Logan and raised his eyebrows. He rolled to his knees on the bed and grabbed Logan under the arms, sliding him across the surface. Logan wound up on his back at full length across the head of the bed, Tallant straddling him on his knees. Tallant's hands came down on either side of Logan's head, and he stared up into his captor's eyes, his mouth going dry.

"Don't look so frightened," Tallant said with a grin. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm not frightened," Logan said. "I'm pissed."

Tallant snorted. "You forget, Logan, I know your eyes."

Logan glowered at him. "On video. I hardly think –"

"You're usually pretty pissed off during those videos, Logan. Your passion speaks through your eyes. Now you don't look angry, you look like a scared virgin."

Logan gulped and shrugged. "Whatever you say," he said, looking towards the head of the bed.

"Don't worry, I haven't got time to do this properly, and our first time will be done right, you can count on that."

"Oh good," Logan said sarcastically.

"I do have time for a little bit of frisk and romp." Logan took in a startled breath as Tallant descended on him and began to nibble on his ear.

"Tallant! Jeff! No!" Logan shoved at him, but Tallant weighed more than he did and gravity was on his side. The bed also didn't make much of a surface to fight from, and his muscles were screaming from all the activity on the previous day. "Let me go!"

"Do I have to tie your arms down?" Tallant murmured in Logan's ear. "I will, if you make me."

"I can't just lie here and let you maul me," Logan growled.

"You don't have much choice." Tallant said. He sat back and grabbed Logan's wrists. "Do I have to tie you, or are you going to be sensible?"

"If I was sensible, I would have gotten a job with the family company instead of going into journalism."

Tallant tilted his head and gave him an odd look. "Interesting point." He backed off the bed and opened the closet.

"Jeff, look, I –"

"You're not talking me out of this, Logan. I want you, and that's all there is to it."

Logan thumped his head on the bed. "Was that story you told yesterday meant to convey the impression that you always get what you want?" Logan asked, leaning up on his elbows.

Tallant turned around, two ties held in his hands, and Logan's gut twisted. "What story?"

"About the lions."

Tallant shook his head. "No, it was a story about me as a teenager," he replied, sounding amused. He walked around the bed to the side where Logan's head was. "Though I suppose it could be interpreted that way."

"I thought you didn't have much time."

"I schedule the meetings. I can be late." He grabbed Logan's right arm and pulled it flat to the bed, and even knowing that there wasn't any point, Logan tried to stop him. He twisted and pulled, but a few moments later, Tallant grabbed the hem of the t-shirt Logan was wearing and dragged it off over his head, letting the whole thing hang over his right arm.

"Damn it!" Logan exclaimed. "Stop this now, you –"

"I want a proper look at you," Tallant said, cutting Logan off. He secured Logan's left arm in short order, then got back on the bed. Logan glared at him, but he just went further down Logan's body. Logan stared at the ceiling, robbed of the ability to get a look at was going on past his chest. He felt a tugging on the boxer shorts and ground his teeth. They came right off, and Logan lost any sense of where they were as soon as they went past his butt.

"Please, don't do this," Logan said, his voice as calm as he could manage.

Hands crept under his ass, and Logan closed his eyes. Of all the dangers he'd ever imagined his job could bring, this was not one of them. "You are well built," Tallant murmured. "How do you keep your legs in such good shape?"

"Could we not talk?"

"Is that what you really want?"

Logan felt the heat of the other man's breath on the skin of his belly. He clenched his teeth and didn't answer. Lips touched the skin there, and then teeth. Logan closed his eyes and wished for instant rescue. Was this a moment he wanted Max to witness? No. How much did he care? Not a hell of a lot if she could get here right now and stop what was happening. After sucking hard enough on Logan's belly to create quite a mark, Tallant moved up his body and gazed down into Logan's eyes. "Now, I want you to understand something."

"What?"

"I will not be pleased if you bite me when I kiss you. Not pleased at all." His expression was sober, sincere. "I understand your desire to fight, and I welcome it. It makes things fun. But there are limits to what I will tolerate." Logan blinked at him, real fear starting to fill him. This was the face of a man who meant what he said, and he didn't like the implication of an unstated punishment. "Do we understand one another?" Logan knew his voice would betray his level of freakedness, so he just nodded once. Tallant smiled, and Logan realized that his failure to speak had been interpreted in the same way as a tremulous voice would have been.

Placing a hand under Logan's head, Tallant bent in to nibble on Logan's lips. Logan's jaw was clenched shut, but Tallant evidently expected that. He forced Logan's jaw open with his hands and kissed him deeply, aggressively. Logan had never experienced anything like it, and he never wanted to again. He had to concentrate not to bring his teeth together on the invading object.

Finally Tallant drew back and Logan stared at him with wide eyes. "I wish I could cancel this meeting, but I can't. This will have to wait till tomorrow at the earliest." There was a knock on the door. "Damn Morgan anyway," Tallant muttered. He kissed Logan again, more briefly, then got off the bed. "I'll be out in five minutes." Logan heard the noises that went with hurried dressing. "I'll be busy most of the day, I'm afraid, Logan. Morgan will be here all day, though, don't worry."

"I wasn't worried," Logan said.

Tallant released his arms and tossed him a robe. "I'll see you later, but probably not till just before the plane."

Logan sat up and stared at him. "Plane? What plane?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Tallant asked. "We're leaving for Canada tonight. We'll probably stay there a month or two, maybe go on to Europe. I want to be out of Seattle at least until the fuss over you dies down. I would have left already, but I had business that couldn't wait." He opened the door as he spoke and walked through. Logan stared in shocked dismay. "See you tonight." The door closed behind him, and Logan cupped his mouth with his hand. Canada. How the hell could anyone hope to find him there, or bring him back?


	13. Chapter 13

Max walked into the apartment, expecting to find it deserted. At first it seemed so. She walked over to her motorcycle, unscrewed the fuel cap and started filling it. A sneeze behind her made her jump. Fortunately, she managed to avoid spilling any of the precious gas, but she turned to find Kendra behind her. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, surprise making her angry.

Kendra gestured mutely with her tissues and the mug she held in her hand. Other things about her appearance belatedly registered in Max's mind. She wore her bathrobe closed tight around her neck, her nose was red, and her hair was bedraggled like she hadn't bothered to do anything with it yet. Only one thing ever kept Kendra from fixing her hair, and that was feeling dead sick.

"Oh." Max turned back to her fueling.

"You haven't been home in two days," Kendra said, her voice hoarse. She came up beside Max and put a hand on her back. "I heard about Logan, honey, are you all right?"

"Fine," Max said sharply, and Kendra drew back, looking startled. "Sorry, I'm just getting tired of people asking me that."

"I'm sure," Kendra said, putting her hand on Max's shoulder. "But you know you can talk to me, don't you?"

Max took a deep breath and turned towards her. "I know, Kendra, and I appreciate it, but there are things I have to do right now."

"What things, Max?" Max didn't answer, returning her attention to the _jug-jug_ of the gas flowing into her tank. "Max, honey, I know it goes against the grain with you to sit and do nothing when something's going on, but there's nothing you can do."

"I . . ." She grimaced. "I can't do nothing, Kendra." The gas can finally emptied out, so she shook it a few times to make sure she caught the last drops and then closed the tank. Dropping the gas can to dangle in her left hand, she turned back to Kendra. "I promise, I won't get into anything I can't handle."

Kendra cupped Max's cheek in her hand. "Sometimes you don't know what you can't handle till you can't handle it. Be careful, Max."

What was with her friends today? "I will," she said, then she went into her room to grab a couple of things. When she came out, Kendra was tucked up on the couch with a hot water bottle. "You take care of yourself, too, okay?" she called as she pushed her bike out of the apartment.

Kendra waved at her wordlessly.

Logan's phone rang while she was in the elevator. She pulled it out and looked at the digital readout. She didn't recognize the number, and there was no name associated in the memory. She thought about answering, but decided against it. A couple of minutes after the phone stopped ringing, a chime told her that the caller had left a voicemail. She had just reached ground level and was pushing the bike out to the road, and she hesitated over whether she should check it or not. It could be some kind of personal message from some friend of Logan's . . . who didn't know he was missing. That didn't ring quite right to her. She stopped, pulled out the phone and pressed Send.

The mechanized female voice came on. "You have zero saved messages, and one new message. First new message, Friday, November thirteenth, two thousand twenty. Two twenty-one p.m." Then the message started. "Max, I'm glad you didn't pick this up, you couldn't know it was me." It was Detective Sung's voice. "Bling told me about the planes. Looking at info he couldn't access, I can cross off two of the three you had left, but another two possibles have come up since this morning. Meet me at Logan's place."

* * *

"Where are you going?"

Logan glanced over at Jacob in irritation. "The bathroom," he said without stopping. A moment later he heard footsteps behind him, and he knew that Jacob was following him. He stopped and whirled the chair around. Jacob took several steps back, clearly startled by the sudden movement. Logan was both pleased by the reaction and irritated with himself for demonstrating a hitherto unknown capability to his captors. That didn't stop him from glaring up at Jacob, though. "Why don't you hang out in the front room?" he demanded. "That would guarantee I couldn't get out, and it would obviate the need for the third degree every time I move as well as the need to follow me!"

"Just do whatever you're going to do, would you?" Jacob growled.

Logan turned again and went into the gym and the bathroom beyond. The architecture of that bathroom was best suited to his getting in and out of his chair on his own. He went through the door and closed it firmly behind himself, locking it. He was quite certain they had the key, and even if they didn't, it was the simplest kind of lock, easily forced with a butter knife. The gesture was symbolic more than anything. He made use of the facilities and washed his hands. When he opened the door, he found the gym empty, so he wheeled out into it. Loud voices in the hallway made him slow.

"I don't like it," Jacob growled.

"It's not up to you," Morgan replied. He always sounded calm. Logan wondered if it was that he didn't care, or if he was just that controlled.

"It's dangerous, for him and for us."

"We can deal with it, Jacob."

"He's a pain in the ass, he's not going to stop trying to get away, and Jeff is stupidly besotted with him! How do we _deal_ with that?"

"It's not a problem," Morgan replied, and Logan could almost see the shrug. "He's good in his chair and he's certainly motivated, but he can't get through locked doors. In fact, I'm going to suggest raising all the doorknobs about six inches." Logan's gut chilled at the perception.

"What?"

"We put a door on the den, put the knob up high enough, and he won't even be able to leave the room without his chair, or a lot of extra effort."

"That'll be great once we come back here, but what about Canada? Or Italy?"

"What will he be able to do there?" Morgan asked. "No passport, no visa, no ID of any kind? He's not that stupid. The embassies aren't sending people back without proof of citizenship in triplicate, and the locals don't want refugees, especially not crippled refugees. Outside this country, he's not even going to try to escape."

Logan closed his eyes. Morgan was wrong about one thing. He'd still try to escape, but he'd have to plan his moves carefully. If he could get himself to an embassy, he wouldn't have too much difficulty proving that he was the missing Logan Cale, but it was getting to the embassy that would be problematic. Without his chair, the immediate response of any random person encountering him on the street would be to get him to a hospital, at which point all Tallant would have to do was come find him, claim he was mentally incompetent, and fetch him back. With sufficient grease, that would go over just fine.

"I still don't like it."

"No one's asking you to," Morgan replied. "Have you said anything to Jeff?"

"No."

"I wouldn't. Besotted is the right word, and I don't think it's going away soon. I've only seen him like this once before, and that guy lasted for years." Logan didn't like the sound of that.

"Was he unwilling?"

Logan wanted the answer to that question, but Morgan didn't speak immediately, and when he did he changed the subject alarmingly. "How long's Logan been in there?"

Logan hastily wheeled backwards and made the bathroom door thunk against the wall. Both Morgan and Jacob came into the gym, and he looked up at them with an irritable expression. "What, does it take two of you to make sure I don't go out the front door?"

"How much did you hear?" Morgan asked.

Logan tilted his head and gave him a blank look. "I don't know what you mean." He wheeled towards them. When they didn't give way, he said, "I was going back to the den. Anyone want to pull a book down for me?"

Morgan turned aside and followed him to the den. "You'd probably be more comfortable in the recliner," he said.

Logan shook his head. "I'm fine in my chair, thanks."

Morgan walked over to the bookshelves. "What did you want?"

" _Oliver Twist_ ," Logan said, pointing.

Morgan pulled it off the shelf and handed it to him. "Maybe I should be more clear. _I_ would be more comfortable with you in the recliner."

"Do I have a choice?" Logan asked. Morgan pursed his lips, then shook his head. "Is this orders?"

Morgan shrugged. "My orders are to keep you where you're supposed to be, how was left up to me."

Logan ground his teeth. "I can't stop you from doing what you want," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Morgan didn't reply, he just scooped Logan up and placed him on the recliner. Logan reached down before he could and got the footrest angled comfortably. He ignored Morgan after that. Opening the book, he flipped to the first page and started reading.

Morgan rolled the chair away and came back to stand next to him. He loomed until Logan finally looked up. "We're going to be living together for some time, you know." Logan's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure antagonizing us is the best choice?"

"I'm certain that sitting back tamely and giving in isn't," Logan replied. "Do you mind? I'm reading."

Morgan sighed and walked away. Logan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair. He had no doubt that Morgan and Jacob could make things very unpleasant if he pissed them off enough, but what did they expect from him? They were helping Tallant keep him prisoner, enabling the man to assault him sexually. He abruptly noticed that he had one of his hands covering the hickey on his lower abdomen and pulled it away sharply.

He looked at the clock. Just past three in the afternoon. He didn't know how long he had before they left for their flight, but it could only be a matter of hours.

Resolutely putting that fact out of his mind, he tried to focus on the book. Images and sensations kept intruding, but he shoved them out when they came and kept trying to read.

* * *

"Has anything changed since Sung's message?" Max demanded as she strode into Logan's office.

"One of the three flights has been cancelled," Bling said. "The other two have times scheduled. One is set for eight p.m., the other for quarter past nine."

"How far apart are they?" Max asked.

"Forty minutes," Bling said.

"But if they move the second flight up at all, you could be screwed on getting to it," Sung pointed out. "And I still don't understand what you're going to do. I should put some cops in the area."

"How are you going to get them?" she asked. "What evidence are you going to show your superiors?"

Sung opened his mouth and then closed it again. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get Logan back," she said flatly. "Bling, call me if anything changes. I'm going to go do a recon of both airfields. Can you give me a map of each of them?"

Bling held out two sheets of paper. "I marked the listed locations of each plane on them, and the ID numbers are on there." She looked them over, tucked them into her jacket, gave Bling an approving nod and headed out.

"Max!"

At Sung's call, she stopped and looked at him. "What?"

"How are you going to get him back?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Do you really want to know?"

He stared at her for a long moment, then he shook his head. Max shrugged and kept going.

* * *

Logan looked up when Morgan and Jacob came into the room together shortly after dinner. "Jeff will be here in about ten minutes, and we'll be going." Logan looked at the clock. Not quite seven. "You're going to need a jacket, I think," Morgan said, holding one out.

"How about shoes?" Logan asked. They'd given him black jeans and a red shirt that morning. From the shortness of both legs and sleeves, he thought they probably came from Tallant's closet. Wearing the man's clothes made his skin twitch, but naked seemed to be the only other option.

"About that, I think we'll just have to layer a couple of pairs of socks." Logan gave him a dubious look. "Your feet are bigger than mine, and I wear the biggest size in the house."

"I was wearing shoes when I got here."

"Jacob threw them out," Morgan said, sounding slightly disgusted.

"Jeff told us to throw everything he was wearing away," Jacob said defensively.

"I don't think he meant his shoes," Morgan said.

"Anyway, they're gone," Jacob said. "Trash was picked up this morning, right on time."

"Great," Logan muttered. He took the jacket they offered him and put it on. It was too big in all dimensions. He glanced up at Morgan. "Yours?"

"Yeah. Let's get you into your chair." He scooped Logan up and deposited him in the seat of the chair, and then, just to make him feel really special, he tied Logan's hands in front of him.

"Is that really necessary?" Logan asked.

"You already told me that if you saw a way out, you'd take it," Morgan said. "I'm limiting the opportunities."

Logan grimaced and glared down at his wrists. His mouth got him into more trouble. They took him out of the apartment and down in the elevator, and he understood Morgan's reasoning more clearly when he realized that they were planning to take him down the ramp. If he'd had control over his hands, he would have been tempted to break free of them and see if he could get out onto the street. As it was, all he could do was sit and let himself be pushed.

Tallant had pulled into the lowest level of the building by the time they got down there, and he got out of the driver's seat. "Everybody ready?" he asked as they reached him. Logan just glared up at him. His hope was fading. At this rate, it looked like rescue would be too late. "My very own hero," Tallant said, apparently as a greeting, because he then bent to kiss him. Logan turned his head away, and the lips that were meant to brush his brushed his cheek instead. Tallant caught his chin and turned him to face forward. "Don't be that way, Logan," he murmured, and pressed a kiss to his lips. Logan shuddered, but he didn't speak. Morgan got him out of the chair and put him into the backseat, and true to pattern, Tallant slid in beside him. Logan hoped devoutly that the backseat of a car driven by his two flunkies counted as public because he wasn't sure he could cope with being pawed all the way to the airport.

Morgan walked away from the car with the wheelchair, and Logan watched him put it in some kind of closet that he locked afterwards. "Wait, what about my chair?" he asked. "Tallant, you –"

"Call me Jeff, Logan," Tallant said, sliding up close and putting his arm around Logan's body. "I have a new chair waiting for you in Canada, one more suited to the situation."

"One without hand rims, you mean," Logan said after a moment of thought.

"You'll see," Tallant said. He pulled at the jacket and nuzzled Logan's neck. The car started moving and Logan wondered how much of his clothing he'd still be wearing when they arrived.

* * *

Both airstrips were small, but not tiny, both were in use by other planes, and both had solid security forces. Slipping past them wasn't difficult, but it took time that she didn't have to spare. Neither plane looked out of line for carrying a rich man and his prisoner out of the country, and neither pilot had any visible connection to Tallant.

There was nothing she could point at to choose between the two of them. She chose to evaluate the site with the first flight second, so that she wouldn't have to waste time going back and forth. Once she knew where all the runways were, she settled down to wait. By then it was nearly seven thirty, so she didn't have all that much longer in any case.

The minutes passed slowly, and she had to move a couple of times to avoid security guards. Finally, at ten to eight, a car pulled up. It was a dark sedan with extremely dark windows. She hadn't decided what her best move was, but she drew as close as she dared. She had to see the passengers. The front doors opened at roughly the same time, and two men got out. They went to the rear doors and opened them. One man got out, and she waited, her stomach clenching to see what would happen next. The guy from the front passenger seat leaned into the backseat. She was preparing to launch herself towards them when she saw him turn, a child held in his arms, small enough to require a car seat. No one else got out, and as an airport employee got into the driver's seat and drove it away, the four headed towards the hangar with the plane she'd been watching.

She drew back and nearly bumped into one of the security guards she'd been avoiding. One look at her, and he raised a cry. She knocked him down and ran straight for the fence, going up and over it before he had a chance to get up. Before anyone else reached him, she was on her bike and halfway to gone.

* * *

"We're running early, it looks like," Tallant said, looking at his watch. Logan leaned against the door next to him, feeling more than a little mauled. He didn't think Tallant had left any marks this time, but he couldn't be sure. He started buttoning the shirt back up, a difficult prospect with his hands bound in his lap. "Call and see if they can move the flight time up."

Logan swallowed uncomfortably. The minutes were disappearing, and with them any chance that he could be rescued before they left Seattle.

Morgan put a phone to his ear and made the call. Logan listened to the side of the conversation he could hear while Tallant straightened himself up. "We'll be there in five minutes. Any chance of leaving closer to eight forty-five?"

Logan glanced at Tallant, who gave him a sly smile and, putting a hand on the back of his neck, pulled him closer. "Have you ever been to Canada?" he asked.

"Not since before the Pulse," Logan said, his policy of keeping the man talking rather than acting kicking in. "I went skiing in British Columbia with some friends during winter break freshman and sophomore years." Because Tallant seemed interested, and because it bore no importance to anything whatsoever, Logan started to tell him about the trips.

Morgan broke in on the reminiscence before he'd really gotten going. "Jeff, we've got an eight fifty departure, now."

"Good. That works for me." He squeezed Logan's neck. "How about you?" Logan shrugged. "Go on," Tallant said. "Tell me more."

Besotted wasn't the word if he really wanted to know about Logan's college trips. Infatuated might come closer. Logan started talking again, his eyes darting around for any sign of Max.


	14. Chapter 14

The phone started to ring as Max got closer to the hangar where her target sat waiting, only it didn't appear to be waiting. She silenced the ringer impatiently before anyone could hear. It was clear to her that something had changed in the timeline. The plane was out of the hangar. A car already stood on the tarmac, and she could see two men talking on the driver's side, while another stood calmly waiting on the passenger side. She focused on the two who were talking, and her eyes zoomed in on them. One of them was Tallant. The door of the plane opened and a woman stepped out, beckoning.

Max was still outside the fence. She took a few steps back and topped it in a single leap, landing in time to see the solitary man backing out of the rear passenger door with another man held in his arms. Her eyes focused without deliberate intent, and she got a close up view of Logan's face. He looked both angry and a little freaked.

She started running, but all of them boarded very quickly, and the plane started moving a moment after, taxiing towards the north runway. It _would_ be the farthest one out. She put on a burst of speed, trying to catch up, and began to wonder about the lack of security in this part of the airport. She hadn't been noticed, she hadn't been hailed, and no one was trying to stop her. Maybe Tallant had arranged for his little trip not to be witnessed. If so, she'd take the advantage without complaint.

She was gaining on the plane, but it hadn't yet sped up for take off. Fortunately the north runway was at an angle to her current position, so as soon as she could, she cut across the grassy field that separated the runways. That way when it did speed up, she'd be closer.

* * *

Logan held up his hands after Morgan finished securing his seat belt. "Surely I don't need to be tied up in here," he said.

"Let's give it till we're in the air," Morgan replied, settling himself in the next seat and buckling himself in.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" Logan demanded.

Morgan didn't respond, and he also didn't untie him. Logan sat back and glared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way his heart was sinking. He was on a plane, on his way out of Seattle. He couldn't guess when he'd be back again, or what would have happened in the meantime.

There was a loud thunk and the plane jolted as if they'd run over something. Logan looked at Morgan in alarm. "What was that?" Tallant called to the pilot.

"Not sure," she called back. "All the instruments look good, though. You want me to abort?"

"Not if you think it's safe."

"Then we'll be in the air in a minute, sir."

Logan looked out the window at the dark airfield. The runway lights were going by at a fast pace now, and he knew it was officially too late. He closed his eyes as he felt the wheels leave the ground. On a plane this size, he could both hear and feel the landing gear retract, and he knew there was no going back.

* * *

Max crouched on the bulkhead beyond the cargo hatch. It was possible that yanking the hatch open the way she had had compromised its integrity, and she wasn't willing to trust her weight to it. Scanning the upper bulkhead, she located the panels that allowed access to the cargo hold during flight and made her way aft to them. If she was lucky, opening them wouldn't make a lot of noise.

She felt the plane take off under her, and the thumping of the landing gear fitting into its airborne configuration. That complicated things a bit, but not too much. Squatting under the removable panel, she looked for the bottom side of the latch. Disabling it from below proved both quiet and simple. She kept her balance easily as the plane banked and carefully lifted the panel, peering through the gap she'd created to see if there were any feet pointed her way. As she'd expected, everyone was seated and no doubt belted in. That made it considerably less likely that they'd notice her.

Three pairs of shoes and one pair of thick socks, in the far left seat of the first row. She guessed the socks belonged to Logan, and was glad to have that much of a clue to his location. Tilting the panel vertically, she slipped out and started to lower it with extreme care. At that moment, the plane hit a pocket of turbulence, jarring the panel out of her grasp. It fell with a loud thunk, and everyone in that front row turned around.

"Max!" Logan exclaimed, sounding panicked. "Look out!"

The barrel of a gun emerged from the right side, so she rolled forward, down the aisle, avoiding the gunshot easily. She flipped around and faced her targets. Logan was to her far right now, and he was staring at her with wide eyes.

The man who'd already shot at her once took aim again. She dodged, then lunged towards him. At the same time, the man next to Logan shouted. "Don't, Jake! Not –" The rest of his warning was lost in the sound of the gunshot. The plane canted crazily to the right, knocking the guy with the gun sideways into his compatriot, who held himself upright with a grip on the ceiling. Max caught herself against the now empty seat next to the one occupied by Jeffrey Tallant. She glared daggers at him.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, but his interest in her identity faded as the plane canted again. "Alice, what's going on up there?"

The man who'd fired shoved away from his companion and grabbed her by the arms, trying to force her down into the seat behind her. Max swung her arms up between his, broke his hold, and he came at her again. She didn't have time for niceties. She swept his feet out from under him and snapped his neck.

"Son of a bitch!" the other man exclaimed.

Max paid his words no attention. Something was badly wrong with the plane. She darted a glance forward and saw that the pilot – Alice – was working frantically and cursing a blue streak. It appeared that one of the bullets intended for Max had ended in the control panel.

Tallant thumped into Max's back, but he didn't stop to fight her. He was on his way to the cockpit, no doubt to harass the already harassed pilot. The man next to Logan grabbed for her arm. She whirled and punched him solidly in the face. He fell back against the seat, the impact of the punch turning his body sideways. She grabbed his collar and his waistband and threw him towards the back of the plane where he landed half in and half out of the incompletely closed cargo hatch and didn't move.

"Max!" Logan exclaimed as she reached him. "What's going on with the plane?" They hadn't leveled out yet, and she could hear Tallant haranguing the pilot, apparently his contribution to the effort to bring them in safely.

"The control panel is screwed," she said. Squinting past him, she could see that they were skimming over the hangars of the airfield and she made a snap decision. "We're jumping."

Logan's eyes went wide. "Jumping!" he exclaimed, and she could almost feel his panic. "Are you crazy? She'll land it. Eventually. I'll wait."

Max shook her head incredulously. "The controls are shot to shit, Logan. This plane is not landing, it's crashing. That won't be good for the passengers."

His eyes were past reason. "I . . . I'll take my chances."

She abruptly remembered a remark he'd made once about a fear of heights. "Like hell you will." She gave up on the knots around his wrists and instead lifted him up by the arms and draped his arms over her shoulders. "Hang on."

"Max?" Logan's voice quavered, but when she rose, he was supporting himself on her shoulders, keeping his head to the side to avoid blocking her view. She lifted his legs so they wouldn't drag and hinder her. Tallant turned from his frantic efforts in the cockpit and saw them. Eyes widening, he started towards them, but the plane canted sharply again. Max kept her balance, but Tallant smashed against the bulkhead and fell limply to the floor.

She reached the passenger hatch with only a few lurches and flung it open. They were too high for her to have a chance of cushioning Logan in a fall. Then they passed over a dock and out over the water. The plane started losing altitude again, and she began to calculate distance. "Max, there's got to be another way," Logan said suddenly in her ear, and she realized that his panic had resurged. She ignored the way his hands plucked at her hair and leapt out into the cold air when she judged they were close enough. Logan let out a choked cry, and she twisted them in midair so that they went in feet first, hoping that the impact wouldn't break Logan's legs.

It did make her lose her grip on him, and his hands came free of her neck. They plummeted straight down, independently, and he didn't have the legs to kick up to the surface. With his hands bound together, he didn't even have his arms. She strained her eyes in the polluted water, searching for him desperately. He could have hit some piece of wreckage, gotten skewered and be stuck down deep.

Panic loomed as the seconds ticked by and she didn't spot him. To have rescued him only to kill him by drowning would destroy her.

Finally, she caught a glimpse of something billowing in the water, and eeled through the water towards it. He was thrashing to not much effect. She grabbed him by the wrists and gave a powerful kick upwards. They broke the surface. "Logan? Logan, are you all right?"

He spluttered the water out of his mouth. "Never better," he said, his teeth chattering.

She ducked through his arms. "Let's get you to land."

"Good idea," he said, and she kicked off towards the shore.

The docks appeared deserted, but Max knew better. Security patrols walked dockside at irregular intervals.

There was a distant scream of metal as she lugged Logan up a ladder onto the nearest dock. She hefted him into a fireman's carry and turned. The plane had crashed all right, and the fuel had spread in the water and caught fire. Coast guard boats headed towards it, but she scanned the area and saw no heads in bobbing the water. Everyone except the pilot had been unconscious when they left, and it hadn't been five minutes. They all had to have gone down with the plane.

She carried Logan into the lee of a building and lowered him gently to the ground, helping him to sit up against the wall. He was shaking, and his breath came in ragged gasps. "You're safe, Logan," she reassured him. "You're safe." His eyes turned towards her, and she started untying the knots again. They were harder now that they were soaked through, but she got them loose and started rubbing Logan's wrists. There were red marks and bruises visible, and she hoped the bastards were burning alive in that oil slick.

"I didn't think you were coming," Logan said, staring at her as if he couldn't believe she was there.

"Of course I was coming," Max replied, scouring her mind for a way to pull him out of his glassy eyed shock. "But last minute rescues are so much more dramatic."

He blinked at her, and she could tell that his brain was taking some time to process the remark. "Oh," he said. "Thank you, Max. I can't thank you enough." Now he was babbling, and she wasn't sure how to stop him. They were out in the open, and the security guards could show up at any time. Finding Logan might be fine, but finding her could be disastrous. She tried to shush him, but he wasn't listening. Finally, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, and he froze for a second, then his hands came up and gently pushed her back. There was sense in his eyes now, but alarm as well. "Max, what was that for?"

Max suppressed the automatic responses that came to mind. _I was scared. I missed you._ Instead, she went with the practical. "You were making too much noise."

He nodded, his jaw clenching shut. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Where is Tallant?"

"He went down with the plane," she said. "Pilot was still trying to fly last I saw. I killed one of his goons, and the other one was unconscious at least when the plane crashed down."

Logan closed his eyes and nodded once. "Good."

"I need to call Bling," Max said. "And we need to get off the docks so the security bozos don't find us."

"I don't have my chair," Logan said.

"I can carry you, it's only about forty yards to the street."

"Max . . ." Logan started, but she shook her head.

"You can ride piggyback," she said, a rare flash of kids and adults playing the park coming to her mind. "Pretend it's a bright, sunny day in the park."

* * *

Logan nodded unhappily, recognizing the necessity. He didn't want to be roped into explaining anything about that crash, and Max couldn't afford to be questioned by the authorities under any circumstances. When she squatted in front of him, he put his arms around her shoulders. She drew his legs together in front of her and used the rope that had bound his hands to tie them loosely together and to her belt to keep them out of the way. Despite the cold water dripping from both of their clothing, he could feel the heat emanating from her body. It didn't stop his shivering, but it helped a little.

"This feels weird," he said, and his teeth chattered as he spoke.

"I think it's kind of nice," Max said.

They were on one side of a long stretch of adjoined warehouses, and the street was on the other side. Max walked a few dozen feet along towards the nearest alley, then shook her head and made for the nearest man-sized door. "Is your phone waterproof?" she asked.

"It's supposed to be," he said. He watched over her shoulder as she broke into the warehouse by giving the door a sudden shove at the level of the deadbolt. This left the door basically undamaged, so when she turned around and put a heavy box against it to hold it closed, it was less likely that the security squad would even notice that it had been opened.

She pulled out his phone as she walked them through the warehouse to the opposite side. "Looks like it's working," she said when the screen lit up. He watched her pull up Bling's number on the speed dial and press Send.

"Max, are you okay?" Bling exclaimed. His voice was loud enough to carry clearly to Logan's ears. Max pulled the phone away from her own ear slightly. "Did you get him?"

"I have him, and we're both okay."

"Hey, Bling," Logan said weakly, his teeth chattering less now that they were out of the wind.

"Logan, thank God!" Bling said.

"We don't have time for that," Max interjected. "Have you left yet?"

"On my way. Where are you, exactly?"

"Dock warehouse, not sure of the address. Shoreline Road, anyway. I can tell you once I get us outside."

"How'd you wind up on the docks? Anyone after you?"

"Nope."

She threw the deadbolt on the street side door, opened the door, and stepped out. Logan scanned the building, but with her night sight, she caught it first. "1573B. We'll be out front unless there's trouble."

"Call me if you have to move."

"Roger," Max said, and she disconnected, putting the phone in her pocket. She untied Logan's legs and lowered him slowly down to the ground. He didn't quite register that was what she was doing immediately, but when he was able to, he let go of her shoulders. He landed with a bit of a thump, and Max turned around to face him. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" He shook his head, the shivers starting anew now that he was no longer so close to Max's warmth, and they were back out in the wind. On this side of the warehouse, it was less, but it was still a factor. Max had put him down against a wall, but when she saw how he was shivering, she slipped in behind him and let him lean against her. "If I had anything else to put you in, I'd get you out of those clothes –"

"No!" Logan blurted.

"Logan, relax," she said, giving him a squeeze. "I said 'if.' I just hope Bling gets here soon."

"How is he passing through the curfew?" Logan asked.

"I stole him a permit," she replied calmly. "From some guy who works nights. Now, are you hurt at all? You haven't said anything, but . . . are you?"

Logan shook his head. "Bruises, a few scrapes. Nothing serious."

"They knock you around?" Max asked. Her tone was gentle, as if she was worried she'd freak him out.

"The first guys weren't gentle," Logan replied, remembering Jack's ham handed attempts to get him into his chair, and the one kick from Deke. "But they didn't exactly knock me around. The scrapes all come from when I tried to escape from Tallant."

"He beat up on you?" she demanded.

Logan shuddered slightly. "No, he wasn't mad, he was impressed."

"Impressed?" Max repeated.

"Yeah." Logan gulped. "Anyway, in the process of trying to get away, I fell about fifteen feet onto a pile of debris, and then I rolled."

"Ouch."

"That was after the car almost ran me over," Logan added, "when I fell out of my chair on their car ramp."

"But you're okay?" Max asked, her voice anxious.

"Better than okay," he replied, squeezing her hand. "I'm out of there. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

He could feel Max shrugging behind him. "Feed me."

Headlights lit up the corner as a car turned onto the street. Logan recognized his own car. "So they didn't wreck it?" he asked, faintly amused that after all the complaints they hadn't mangled the car.

"What, they didn't like your car?" Max asked in his ear.

"Muttered about rich cheapskates," he replied. "That's probably the only reason it hasn't been chopped up for parts."

The driver's door opened and Bling came running over. "Logan, thank God!" he said. "You look beat."

"I'll be fine once we get home."

"I'm taking you straight to the hospital," Bling said as he unceremoniously scooped Logan off Max's lap.

Logan shook his head fervently. "There's nothing wrong with me that needs the hospital, Bling, and you know how fast the reporters will be there. I can't face it." Bling put him down in the front seat of the car, and Logan could tell from his expression that he was reluctant to agree. Thinking fast, he added a sweetener. "See if you can't get Dr. Carr to come out to the house. If he says I need to go the hospital, I will."

"And I'll meet you guys wherever you wind up," Max said as Bling stepped back to shut the door.

Logan turned to her, startled. He put his hand out to stop the door from closing. "You're not coming with us?" he asked. Both the panic in his voice and his gut were unexpected, and she blinked at him, seeming startled.

"My Ninja's at the airfield," she said, jerking her head in that direction. "It'll be towed if I leave it."

"Right," Logan said, swallowing hard to control the fear that was still flowing through him. He tried to sound calm. "Well, we can drop you at the airfield, and then you can follow us."

Max's brows knit. "I thought I'd better check out the wreckage, find out what happened."

"Matt can let us know," Bling suggested, and Logan hoped his fears weren't so transparent that Bling was picking up on them. "And any further discussion can take place in the car if you're willing for us to drop you by the airstrip, Max."

"Right." Max climbed in the rear passenger door, and Bling shut Logan's door. He went around to get in on the driver's side. The heat was already on, and it felt wonderful. Max spoke from the backseat. "But I'll still have to swing by my place, get . . ." Her voice trailed off. "Actually, can I borrow something to change into while my clothes dry?"

"Sure," Logan replied.

"Then we're set," she said. "I parked a few blocks south of the airfield, Bling."

Logan rested his head back on the seat. A short while later, he heard Bling say, "I think he's asleep, Max." Logan wanted to refute the claim, but he couldn't seem to make himself move. He drifted for a while longer, then fell properly asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Bling lifted Logan carefully out of the car when they reached their parking space and settled him gently into his back up wheelchair. He hadn't woken when Max got out of the car, and Bling hoped he wouldn't wake now. No such luck. He lifted his head and looked around when Bling put him down. "Oh, good," he muttered.

"Almost home," Bling murmured.

"Where's Max?" His urgent tone echoed the near panic he'd displayed earlier when Max had suggested not coming straight to the apartment. Bling wondered what had happened that made him so insistent on having Max around. Ordinarily when he was feeling less than stellar, he sent Max away without explaining why.

"She's on her way, Logan. Don't worry."

Up in the elevator, down the hall to the apartment. Bling was glad it was so late. There weren't any people around to exclaim and fuss. If there was one thing Logan wouldn't put up with, it was being fussed over, especially by strangers and near strangers. The door opened as they approached.

"Bling?" Logan asked sharply.

"Matt's here," Bling said, and sure enough, the door opened wider to reveal Matt Sung.

He stepped back to let them in, then shut the door behind them. "When I heard the plane went down, I about panicked."

"Well, as you can see, I'm home, I'm safe, you should be getting home to your wife and children."

"Actually, I need to report in."

"Could you delay a little?" Logan asked plaintively. "I really don't want the fine men in blue pestering me until I've had a chance to clean up and let my doctor look me over. I'm home, I'm safe, and everyone involved in the kidnapping is dead."

"Sure," Matt said. "And you're right, I do need to head home." He grabbed Logan's hand and shook it fervently. "I am so glad you're safe."

Logan watched him leave, and then looked up at Bling. "Why was he here?" he asked.

"He helped us find you," Bling said. "Brought us all the info he could, and he's on the official investigation into your disappearance."

"Oh." Logan looked a little stunned, but Bling would have been surprised if he wasn't.

Bling bit his lip and cleared his throat. "Oh, I should mention, he knows."

"Knows what?" Logan asked, looking at him vaguely.

"He _knows_." Bling said, emphasizing the verb.

Logan's eyes widened. "You told him?"

Bling shook his head. "It was sort of an accident," he said. "But it meant he really understood why we couldn't risk having the cops find you."

Logan shook his head. "I didn't want him to know. It puts him in a terrible position at work."

"Well, the cat's out of the bag. Let's get you into a hot shower and warm you up." Logan nodded, and Bling pushed him into the bedroom. This was a transport chair, no handrims and high arms. "I guess your chair went down with the plane?"

"No," Logan said, and his voice was oddly harsh. "My chair was left at Tallant's place because it made me too . . . independent."

Bling blinked, absorbing the implications of that. They'd reached the bathroom, so he maneuvered the chair close to the tub and set the brakes. Turning to the shower, he folded down the seat from the wall, and started the water. "Think you can manage with this chair?"

"Spot me," Logan replied after a long moment. He started getting undressed. Bling finished getting the water to the right temperature, then stepped back. Once he'd gotten the shirt off, Logan looked around, then turned to him. "Would you grab the trash can for me?"

"Sure thing." Bling put the garbage can where Logan could easily reach it. He took a step back and looked his employer over. There were dark bruises all over his arms and legs, and Bling had to control his anger. Logan pushed himself to the edge of the chair and grabbed the rails and used them to swing himself into the tub, under the stream of water. There were two bruises low on the back of his neck that didn't look like the others. Bling moved closer, but Logan pulled the curtain before he could get a good look.

He hovered, a little concerned about Logan's ability to manage on his own after whatever hell he'd been through over the last several days. He was doing fine so far, but Bling wasn't sure he should leave him alone for very long.

There was a knock at the door, and Bling knew it couldn't be Max. She never knocked. "I'm going to go let the doctor in," he said. "Back in a few."

"Okay," Logan replied.

Bling opened the door and Dr. Carr came in. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"He's taking a shower," Bling said reassuringly. "Now, he said he'd go to the hospital if you said he should."

"You told me on the phone that he really doesn't want to," Dr. Carr said, his brow furrowed. Bling shrugged uneasily, leading him further into the apartment. "I'm not going to send him against his will unless he really needs it."

"I get it, man, but I'm just afraid he'll minimize things. I don't know all of what he's been through, but at the very least, he fell out of a plane into the Sound." Dr. Carr's eyes widened.

"It wasn't a fall," Max said, coming up behind them. Bling hadn't even heard her come in. "It was a controlled jump. The fall came earlier, during his escape attempt."

"I can tell that part of the story, Max," Logan said, controlling the chair with some difficulty. He was wearing his terry cloth bathrobe, which Bling didn't recall leaving in easy reach. Silence fell, with Max and Logan sharing a long look, the kind that Logan would recognize in anyone else. Bling tried to pretend he wasn't there, and Dr. Carr started looking impatient. He was the one who finally broke the silence.

"So, Logan, if I could just take a look at you?" he suggested.

Both Max and Logan came out of their reverie. Max looked faintly embarrassed, but Logan didn't seem to realize he'd done anything out of the ordinary. "Sure," he said. "The gym would probably be our best bet." They all moved in that direction, en masse, Bling taking the handles of the chair. Logan put up a hand and Bling stopped. Max and Dr. Carr continued for a few steps, then turned. Logan looked over at his rescuer. "Hey, Max, why don't you take a nice hot bath?"

Bling watched her reaction with amusement. She was shaking her head right up until the word _bath_. Then her eyes went wide and kind of soft. "Bath?" she repeated.

"Make it a bubble bath," Logan suggested, warming to his theme. "There's some stuff in the cupboard under the sink."

"A bubble bath," Max said with a faraway smile.

"Bling, give her a pair of my PJs and bring me some clothes, would you?" Logan added.

"Sure," Bling said. "Once I've got you in the gym."

"Dr. Carr can get me into the gym," Logan said. "Go, go."

Well aware that he'd just been maneuvered out of the way of the examination, Bling released the handles and watched as Logan began directing the good doctor towards the gym. He was slightly alarmed by this assertion of independence. He knew he was hovering, but he didn't think he'd been that obvious about it. He'd wanted to be present for the examination so that Logan couldn't feed him a line about what the doctor had told him.

Bling helped Max find the stuff for the bubble bath and left her reading the directions on the bottle. While he was selecting clothes for Logan, Dr. Carr came in. "I can't get Logan onto the table myself," he said. Bling nodded and followed him. Without a word, he lifted Logan from the chair and onto the table, then absented himself. Logan had his pride, and Bling tried – most of the time – to avoid bruising it any more than necessary.

He went back to the bedroom. Grabbing some of Logan's sweats, a pair of boxers and a sweatshirt, he tossed them on the bed. Then he dug deep for the pajamas that Logan almost never wore, and found some cotton ones that were maroon with white piping. They seemed minimally offensive.

"Bling?" Max called.

"Yeah?" he asked, walking into the bathroom.

"There are holes in the sides of this tub," she said, peering in.

"Yeah," Bling said. "That's the whirlpool jets. Once the tub is full, just push this switch." He pointed, then he put the PJs down on the counter. "There. Toss your clothes out the door and I'll put them in the washer for you."

She grinned at him. "Thanks. You know, we made a pretty good team."

He grinned back. "Let's hope we don't need to do it again."

She nodded fervently, and he left the room. A few moments later, her clothes hit the floor outside. They were mostly dry now, but they were stiff with salt. He bundled them into the washer and headed to the gym. The tension thrumming in the room when he entered startled him.

Dr. Carr turned to him instantly. "Bling, maybe you have some pull with him," he said. Logan was glaring at the doctor, and he didn't speak.

"What? Does he need to go to the hospital?" Bling asked. "Because he already agreed to go on your say so."

"I don't know," Dr. Carr said in a voice that was made all the more intense by his hushed tone. "He won't let me do all the exams I need to do."

Bling turned to his employer. "Logan, what's he talking about?"

Logan's shoulders were tense, and his torso was bare. He had the robe wrapped around his waist. He glowered at Dr. Carr and said, "For the record, it's only one exam that I'm objecting to, and I don't need it. I told you."

"The doctor knows what he's doing," Bling said, wondering what this was all about. "What is it, anyway?" Logan dropped his head, chin to his chest, and the gesture gave Bling a better view of those bruises on his neck. They were bruises, all right, but a very specific kind of bruise. In a strangled voice, he said, "Logan, you've got hickeys on your neck, man."

Logan brought his hand up to the back of his neck and he flushed scarlet. "I didn't think he left any marks up there," he muttered, and Bling got a very ugly picture in his head.

"Yes, and there's one on his lower abdomen," Dr. Carr said anxiously. "That one actually shows teeth marks, though it didn't break the skin."

"I am here, you know," Logan said irritably. "No call to talk about me in the third person."

"Sorry, Logan, but I need to do that exam, for your own protection. There could be damage you're not aware of."

Logan's expression just got stonier. "There isn't," he said.

"Logan, man," Bling said sympathetically, barely keeping his fury in check. "The doctor's right. "If you were –"

"I wasn't, okay!" Logan burst out, his voice as low and controlled as the doctor's. "I was . . . assaulted, and he chewed on me a little, but I wasn't raped."

The word fell like a lead balloon in the room, rendering all three men speechless for a moment. Bling cleared his throat and it sounded very loud, suddenly. "You swear, Logan?" he asked earnestly.

"I'd tell you if . . ." Logan grimaced. "I would," he said defensively to Dr. Carr's skeptical snort. "If for no other reason than the fact that I know he's had multiple partners, and there are diseases to consider." He looked away. "It was on the menu of events scheduled for Canada, along with further threatening of small children to get me to . . ." He stopped abruptly, and Bling thought he'd been about to say something a little too candid about his Eyes Only work in front of Dr. Carr. "Anyway, I wasn't, okay, so there's really no need for that particular exam." Dr. Carr pursed his lips and turned to Bling, who nodded. "Thank you," Logan said. "Now, can I please put some clothes on?"

Bling held out the stuff he'd grabbed, and Logan took it. He shook out the sweatshirt and shook his head. "Could you grab me something with a little higher neck?"

Bling exchanged a worried look with Dr. Carr. "You want to hide it?" Bling asked. "Logan, you've got nothing to be ashamed –"

"No, I don't," Logan replied. "But it's nothing to brag about either." Bling blinked at him. "And I don't plan on telling the police. Or Max for that matter." Dr. Carr started to speak, but Logan overrode him. "Everyone involved is now dead. It won't help anyone for me to report it, and there are plenty of wags who would find it funny. The jokes would be something appalling."

"Max would not find anything funny about this," Bling protested.

Logan's expression took on an odd, shuttered look. "No, I know, but there are other reasons for not telling her." He raised his chin stubbornly. "I just don't want her to know, and it's my decision. Right?"

"Sure, Logan," Bling said. "Whatever you say. I'll be back in a second."

There was no noise coming from the bathroom as he passed, and Bling had a feeling that Max was in seventh heaven. She would be furious if she ever found out what Logan was keeping from her, but Logan was right. It was his decision, no matter how stupidly he made it.

He returned to the gym with a turtleneck, and Logan put it on, layering the sweatshirt over it. "Do you need me to turn the heat up?" Bling asked.

"No, I'm fine," Logan said. "So, doctor, what do I need to do?"

Dr. Carr handed him some pill bottles. "Analgesics and an anti-inflammatory. Take as needed, following the directions on the bottle. Call me if you start having any coughing or asthma symptoms. That water is cold. Anything that was lingering around in your system might choose this moment to pop up, and we'll want to nip it in the bud."

Logan nodded. "Of course," he said.

"I think you've probably lost a little weight, but nothing to be worried about. Call me if you start losing more. You also might look into speaking to a counselor." Logan's eyes flashed ire, and the doctor raised his hands. "Logan, it's just a suggestion. If you start having trouble sleeping, or lasting signs of depression, it's something to consider."

"Right," Logan said, and his voice was hard.

"I'd suggest it with or without the sexual assault, Logan. You were kidnapped from your own home; it's bound to have an effect on you. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'll keep it in mind," Logan said politely.

Dr. Carr had to be content with that lukewarm non-agreement. Bling saw him out and went back to find Logan trying his damnedest to make his own way from the gym to the office. Bling hurried to help him and encountered a death glare the likes of which he'd rarely seen. "I can do it," Logan grated.

"I know you can," Bling said. "But it will hurt, and it's only temporary. Let me get you in there so you can order yourself a new chair."

Logan dropped his arms into his lap with a grunt of irritation, and Bling pushed him along. "I hate this," Logan said suddenly.

"Being pushed?" Bling asked rhetorically. "I know. It's only –"

"No, the entire thing," Logan growled, and Bling was startled by his rudeness in cutting him off. Logan rarely behaved that way unless he was really upset. "Being so helpless. Do you have any idea how easy it is to keep me prisoner? Deke and Jack managed it without a hitch. They just put me on the floor of a closet with a deadbolt and locked me in. I could barely reach the knob, much less the deadbolt."

The image was ghastly. Bling didn't know what to say. "You were in a closet for two days?" he asked after a moment.

"Two and a half, I guess. With periodic bathroom breaks," Logan said. "And not quite enough water and not nearly enough food."

"You hungry now?"

Logan shook his head. "The gourmet fare that Tallant provided made up the lack," he said sourly. He shook his head. "I need to find a new chair. This will drive me crazy, and I'll be unpleasant to be around."

"Want some coffee?"

"As long as there's no sleepy juice in it," Logan said, and he seemed entirely serious. Not like he thought Bling would do that to him, but like someone had done exactly that to him in the recent past.

Bling compressed his lips, glad to know that the men he was angry at were all dead. "I promise, just caffeine and cream."

Logan nodded, and Bling went to the kitchen to start the percolator going. Then he headed out to pick up some food. He figured Max was probably hungry. She always seemed to be. And if Logan ate something, it wouldn't hurt him any


	16. Chapter 16

Max walked into the office, feeling absurd in the oversized pajamas. Logan was sitting in front of his computer, staring intently at the screen. "New chair?" she asked. He nodded without speaking. "Where's yours? It wasn't on the plane."

"Back at Tallant's place, but it's a little the worse for wear," Logan said. "I don't know if I want it back."

Max shrugged and grabbed a chair, dragging it over to sit next to Logan. "Get one with racing stripes," she suggested.

"Racing stripes?" Logan asked, tilting his head and looking sideways at her, and she could tell he was a little amused.

"Why not? You're pretty fast on your wheels."

His face closed down. "Yeah, well, I don't need racing stripes," he said, and his voice had gone flat. Max didn't know what to do with him in this kind of mood. She didn't know what had caused it, and he never seemed to want to tell her what was up. He seemed to realize that he was being ungracious, because after a moment he said, "Sorry, I'm a little touchy about the chair thing right now."

"I can understand that," Max said. Logan seemed to relax when she didn't ask him why. She bit her lip and looked away. She had something to say, but she wasn't sure how to broach the subject. Finally, she just shrugged at her own ponderings and turned back to him. "I'm sorry," she said.

"What?" Logan turned from the computer and stared at her. "What for?"

"For not noticing you were missing sooner," she said. "We didn't even start looking for you till Wednesday night."

If Logan was dismayed by this news, he hid it well. "I knew no one would miss me for a couple of days," he said. "You're not my babysitter." He turned back to the computer. "So, how did you come to miss me?" he asked.

"News got around that Eyes Only was up for sale. I called, just to check, and you didn't answer." She shrugged off a lot of emotion that she wasn't going to express. "I came by, to see what was what, and found the place trashed and your blood on the floor, and a little girl hiding in a kitchen cupboard."

"Molly!" Logan said. "How was she?"

"I don't know how to judge, given her condition, but she screamed when I touched her, so I'm going to guess not so good."

"Poor thing. It must be awful to be so locked into yourself."

"I guess," Max said. "Though I did figure out a way to get her to talk."

"How?"

Max shrugged. "I asked her a question, played her the Eyes Only opener, and she did the rest."

"What do you mean?"

"We noticed, when we accidentally played some of the opener while she was still here, that she started talking along with it. I figured it was a long shot, but the only shot we really had."

"And it worked."

"And it worked." She snorted. "The kidnappers talked freely in front of the 'retard' because she couldn't tell anyone anything."

"Hoist on their own petard," Logan said.

Max just looked at him. "Whatever that means."

"It's from Shakespeare . . ." Logan shrugged. "Anyway, I'm glad she's okay."

"She ate the whole chocolate pie," Max said. "Oh, I like that one." She leaned in close to the screen.

* * *

When Max leaned closer to peer at the wheelchair that had caught her fancy, Logan found himself with a faceful of her hair, lightly scented by the bubble bath. He was struck with a pang of longing that he repressed firmly. She didn't think of him that way, and why should she? He was half again her age, and he was crippled. No woman in her right mind would want him. Even Valerie had only come back to get what money she could. It seemed that the only person who wanted him was a perverse criminal.

"That is a hot chair," Max said, sitting back again.

Logan looked at it and shrugged. "Then maybe it should be reserved for a hot person," he said, reaching out to click the next button on the web page.

Max caught his hand before he could click and gave him a puzzled look. "What makes you think you're not hot?" she asked.

"My mirror," Logan retorted.

"Then your mirror lies," she said, with a little head jiggle for emphasis. "You are extremely hot." Logan shrugged, uncomfortable with the subject suddenly. Max got up and stood behind him. She put her hands on his shoulders and began to massage him. "Kendra says so, and she's _the_ judge of hot men."

Logan cast about for a subject change. "So, how did you rescue Shannon without the police knowing you were involved?"

"Oh, that was easy. I just pointed her at a cop and asked her not to mention me. She was very cooperative." Max leaned close, and again he caught the scent of bubble bath. "I took her down the wall of a three story building on my back, and she didn't complain at all."

Logan grimaced. "I have a phobia," he said defensively. "Do we have to talk about that? I'm already embarrassed about it."

Max stood up straight again. "Oh, by the way, we told the police I was your girlfriend." Logan's jaw dropped, and he was glad she couldn't see his face. "I hope you don't mind, but I needed an excuse for why I was dropping by for an unplanned visit at 8 p.m."

"I guess it does cover that," Logan said slowly. "Wow, all sorts of things happened while I was gone. Bling told Matt that I'm Eyes Only, and you –"

"No, he didn't," Max said.

"But he . . ." Logan paused, realizing that Bling hadn't actually said he'd done it.

"I misunderstood something Bling said and thought Detective Sung already knew and said something that made it clear." Logan didn't respond, contemplating what the changes she'd just described meant in the long run. Matt knew now that he was Eyes Only, not just a flunky for the man. He also knew that Max was involved somehow in his information gathering process, but the question Logan didn't know the answer to was whether Matt knew just what Max was. "It wasn't intentional," Max said, and she sounded apologetic and regretful.

Logan realized abruptly that his long silence had made her think he was angry. "It's no big deal," he said, catching her hand. "I only didn't tell him because it could make things difficult for him at work." He looked up at her. "Thank you, Max."

"So, are you going to order that chair or not?" Max asked, leaning close to him, her hands still on his shoulders. He could feel the warmth of her against his head and neck. The closeness felt good . . . but dangerous.

He shook his head. "It's a little racy for me, I think."

She reached around and put her hand over his on the mouse. She clicked the 'buy' button and said, "That's exactly why you need it. It's perfect for you."

He looked at the chair and tilted his head thoughtfully. Then he turned towards her. At the same moment, she turned towards him. Their faces were less than an inch apart. Warm, chocolate brown eyes gazed into his, and the moment lengthened. Logan's heart was beating hard, his whole body responding to her proximity.

The sound of the door opening made him jerk, and Max stood up straight instantly. Logan found himself staring at the screen. "So, would you grab my credit card for me?" he asked.

Once the transaction was completed, he let Max push the chair into the kitchen. There he found Bling beginning preparations for macaroni and cheese. "No, no, no, that's not the way to do it!" Logan exclaimed rolling forward hastily.

* * *

When Logan took over the cooking and lecturing Bling on the right way to make macaroni and cheese, Max was finally able to relax. She settled on the counter and watched Logan chop cheese and boil pasta, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She couldn't wait to see him in his new wheelchair. Delightful smells started to fill the air, and she glanced over at Bling. He seemed to be watching Logan with concern. Max wasn't worried.

Logan was home, he was safe, and the bastards who'd taken him were all dead. All was right with the world.


End file.
